And you, Hermione
by starry-eyes184
Summary: Completed. Just about as OOC as you can get. H/Hr “What is this obsession of yours with whether or not I’ve had sex with Harry? GO AWAY, OR IT’S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN!”
1. New Years Heave

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.**

**A/N: **Now, I know what you're thinking, those of you who took the time to read 'The Phoenix Princess'. You're thinking, 'Now why in the world would the authoress be starting another story if she's got over twenty chapters to write and post?' Well, the answer is, BECAUSE I CAN!! On that note, I hope you enjoy this one, folks. Haaaaave fun!

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_**And You, Hermione**_

**Chapter One: New Years Heave**

Merry afternoon sunlight danced its way between barren branches of trees and into a brightly decorated bedroom. The checkered shades of cream and lemon-yellow weren't much protection from the reflecting shades of daylight and freshly fallen snow, and the cold air rolled in from a frequently opened-and-closed front door a flight of steps below. Over-all, it seemed like it would be a beautiful day.

It felt as if the knight bus had crashed into her head right then. Repeatedly. And of course, even in the slim chance that the mystical purple bus could have slammed into the young woman at all, she was positive it had rolled painfully over her aching body at least ten times.

_Thump Swish Thump._

Hermione Granger's stomach churned and clenched uneasily, and her dry mouth filled with the disgusting flavor of her own vomit. Feeling too weak and tired to move at all, she spat the contents of her belly out onto the perfectly matched and smoothed yellow sheets printed with jolly daisies. 'Well, now, not so jolly now, are we?' she thought crossly to herself.

_**Thump Swish Thump.**_

Hermione attempted to open her eyes, which she soon realized was a big mistake. Huge mistake, actually. The sun and exceptionally luminous colors had never seemed so bright...they were almost blinding, for Merlin's sake!

_**Thump Swish Thump!!**_

In a rapid motion, the suffering witch stuffed her head under the pillows, which, considering they had recently been saturated in whatever it was she'd eaten the night before, was not such a pleasant place to be.

_**THUMP SWISH THUMP!!**_

What was that noise? Was she ill? Had someone poisoned her pumpkin juice? Why on _earth_ was she at her _mother's _house?!?

Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to shut out the noise. Hermione suspected it was coming from beneath the sheets, near to her chest. As if a light bulb had flickered on, she realized what it had to be. Her own heartbeat!

Unfortunately, the light bulb seemed to flicker back out as soon as it had gone on, and she was left in a loll of blackness where her memory should have been. Feeling around out side the safety of her sheets, she found the cool metal handle of her bedside drawer.

Pulling it open, she felt around blindly for a small vial she kept inside. Smiling despite of her current situation, she opened the bottle and swallowed the contents grateful for the effects it had. A warm sensation rolled over her, soothing aches, settling her stomach, and bringing down the pounding noise as well as a degree of the brightness.

Of course, it wasn't gone all together, but it helped while Hermione searched for a pair of sunglasses and some ear plugs. The events of last night were slowly creeping back into her head, and only making her wish she'd stayed in the vomit-bath that was once her bed.

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**The Night Before.....**

The seasonal weather had set in, a blanket of snow and ices covering each and every street corner and alleyway. A large crowd was gathered at an upscale club, music pounding out rhythmically into the ears of those in the queue for entrance.

A pair of bulky bouncers stood at the doors, pulling back velvet ropes to let rowdy young adults inside. The people were dressed in sequins and beads, bright colors and feathers. Hats and noisemakers were stuck in various places, pockets, purses, and atop heads. It was defiantly New Years Eve in London. The club flashed a neon sign above the people which read _The Broken Broomstick_. A pair of brooms snapped in half circulated around the sign, whizzing and whirling around.

A young witch just about twenty-three years of age pulled up to the side of the street, yanking the handle of her car into park. She played with the mirrors, glancing at her teeth and hair before grabbing her coat and purse from the passenger seat. Hermione stepped out into the frigid air watching her breath form in white puffs before her as she sighed heavily.

'What on earth was I thinking? I can't go into a place like this! Fred and George will probably try to get me drunk. Or worse, get me to party like its 1999!' She was feeling less and less confidence as she strode toward the entrance, skipping ahead of a large number of sure-to-be disgruntled people.

"Excuse me...." She paused and glanced up at the threateningly large bouncers in front of her. She stood at a short height, facing one extreme versus the other. Both wore purple blazers over black turtlenecks, one bald and tanned, one pale with a buzz-cut of blonde hair. Each had a name-sticker that read either 'Hi! I'm: Boxer', or 'Hi! I'm: Terrier'. Weren't those dog breeds? Anyway... "...Sirs. I'm on the list."

One grunted, she couldn't tell which, and started to pull out a clip-board with a record of names about two-pages long. "Name?" The other asked in a strangely high-pitched voice.

"Hermione Granger."

As she muttered her name, she was almost immediately greeted with the same shocked expressions she'd gotten over the past few years. Of course, a lot of that had to do with the fact that she was almost always with the rest of her inseparable clique, or at least had been in the past.

Now, seven years after her schooling had ended- simultaneously along with Voldemort- something she'd always thought was a bit odd, the trio had had to learn to be independent (i.e. separating for a number of years only to see each other on holidays like...like...that one uncle you see once a year and only tolerate because he gives good gifts.)

Squirming and shifting from foot to foot, she nodded, and waited for some additional noise to that of the muggle cars rushing nearby through dirtied slush, popping out gravel from tires to fill the air.

"G-go right on in, Ms. Granger." The one, Boxer, she suspected, told her.

She passed through the doors and into the flashing party that was the club. Witches danced flirtatiously out on the floor, smoke rolling in great amounts as the beat of the music throbbed throughout the room. Young couples chatted over the noise at the bar, and groups of gossiping friends smacked the tabletops as the buzz from one-too-many firewhiskeys danced into their bloodstream, taking over.

"Hey, hot stuff." A voice from behind her shouted.

Hermione jumped, surprised at the sudden greeting. The voice was deep, and drawling, though it definitely held a large sparkle of mischief in it. A pair of arms circled her waist, and guided her toward a clear, spiral staircase, that glowed where it was lined with neon purple lights.

"Fred, George, nice to see you've gotten here without splinching, after that Christmas bash you threw at WWW headquarters." She said wryly.

"Ah, never fear, never fear, the Weasley twins live! You know you wouldn't be able to go on with out our repartee, luv."

"Perish the thought," Hermione said smiling at the freckle-faced boys. They had remained their prankster selves even through the troubling times of the war. They spoke the truth; of course, she loved the good-natured jokes and held up the banter they'd started for the evening, "That I be able to eat custard without wondering if it'll turn me into a canary."

Fred roughed up her already frazzled brown hair as the three of them reached the loft which was reserved for friends of the proprietors. Speaking of the vendors, the two were joyfully walking in her direction, dropping into a chair at the table.

A young girl with dark hair accompanied by an Irishman had sought them out, greeting Hermione with dazzling smiles and warmth. The youthful man dropped a mixture of some sort in a large goblet in front of her, the odd liquid steaming out heavily.

"I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Did you have any trouble getting in?!?" Seamus Finnegan and Mandy Brocklehurst stood before them, shouting over the loud playing of the featured band tonight, _I-Of-Newt. _

"Nothing but the usual," Hermione said, matching their volume. "This place is great; I can't believe you pulled it off!" The club had actually opened recently, just in time for the Christmas holidays.

It was the brainchild- and only child- of the recently engaged Seamus and Mandy. Before she could even open her mouth to question the whereabouts of her two best friends, Mandy shot out a perfectly manicured finger in the direction of the staircase. Not two- but three lanky people were making their way up to the loft to join the others there.

The tallest looked quite similar to Fred and George, the three being brothers. Ron spotted them and took off toward the table, dropping down with a large sigh. Just as the concerned brunette was about to ask about his troubles, the other two figures arrived.

Harry Potter smiled his stunning grin, and Hermione's stomach leaped. She hadn't exactly labeled the feeling, but it seemed whenever he got near, it over took her. Sweaty palms, fast-beating heart, and an excessive eagerness to be closer. When she had first described these feelings to Mandy, one of her closer female friends, she'd said she had 'utz' for Harry and refused to explain anymore than that it was 'utz' that helped Seamus and her to come together and create the Broken Broomstick. Well, that, and the fact that Mandy was a kick-ass chef and Seamus knew his way around the pubs.

"Hey Hermione, Mandy, Seamus, how were you're Christmas'?" Harry asked, sitting down.

"Great, thanks for asking. Seamus and I went down to Stonehenge before the club opened."

"Hey, everyone, Harry and Ron are here!" Fred began his sentence with a smile, and ended with a bit of a frown, an expression that looked unnatural on his face. He quickly recovered, and managed to pull his features into something that was supposed to be a friendly face, although it turned sour. "...and look, everyone...Harry's brought Cho."

With that one line, Hermione lost concentration on Mandy's elaborate description on how the name _The Broken Broomstick_ came into being.

"...and so, all in all, it wasn't my fault, you see, Seamus practically _dropped_ that bloody stove on his _own_ lap!" Mandy cried out, flailing her arms wildly.

The older girl quickly made for the seat next to Harry's, and dropped into it. She smiled at the rest, whitened teeth shining in the smoky glow from the currently flashing strobe lights. Her stick-straight mass of black hair was tied up into a complicated knot, and she wore a slinky black dress to match Harry's tux.

Hermione suddenly felt a bit more than inadequate. Her frizzy brown hair was left down, the front strands pulled back. Her dress was of the same demure style she'd always used; gray knee length skirt with nylons and simple heals in black to match the shirt and jacket she wore.

"Cho, you look...well." Mandy said politely. She had been in the same house as Cho, though different years. She was courteous, but gone was the sarcastic and loudly animated girl Hermione knew.

"And you too, Mandy."

The nerve! The bloody trollop hadn't even said a frigging word or tossed a frigging glance to acknowledge her! The now fuming girl snatched up the glass of whatever-it-was and drained it fast. The conversation swirled around her, slipping in and out of each ear just as quickly as it had been said. She called for one after the other goblet full of the concoction, and gulped them down fast. It was sure going to be a long night.

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**A/N: **So, what did you guys think? Continue? No? Smash my laptop into smithereens to stop myself from continuing to damage the good name of writers all over?!? Feedback- _please_!


	2. Drunken Promises

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, silly gooses!**

**A/N: **Hullo to any and all who are reading this…I'm grateful for the response, and hope to see more of it with this next chapter! Also, as some of you know, I'm busy working on 'The Phoenix Princess' which comes first, as it's gotten the majority of reviews. If you add some more to this story, I might just have to update more…. (Ahem…i.e., more reviewsfaster/more chapters)

**And you, Hermione**

**Chapter Two: Drunken Promises**

By the time Hermione had started on her fifth drink, she was totally smashed. The lights seemed to meld into each other and the smoke, creating a rather trippy effect. Mandy was flailing her arms in front of her face, though Hermione wasn't exactly aware of it. She was spinning in gentle circles, a dreamy smile on her face.

"So, I'd just been through a three hour shift, and done, oh, say fifty or so dishes all evening, and this bloke comes up to me, and has the nerve to gripe. And he says to me, he says, 'This is dirty, I absolutely must have a clean fork.' when he wasn't even going to-"

"FORK? Hahahaha -Snort- hahahaha!" The group at the garret tables all looked away from Cho, who had been involved in a detailed account of the past three years of her life, and to Hermione, who snorting and pounding the table with her fists.

Harry blinked. "What exactly have you done to her drink, Seamus?" He wasn't quite sure, but Hermione was a rather short and slim person, and based on the fact she hadn't ordered dinner, or eaten at all, she wasn't in a position to hold down such a large quantity of liquor. In other words, she was completely drunk by any legal standards.

Mandy had started to send death glares towards Seamus' direction- if he had done anything, he was in for it now….But Seamus simply shrugged and looked at her from behind his own drink.

"It shouldn't affect her this much…I'd say an average drinker could hold down at least four before getting any sort of buzz at all."

Harry glared at Seamus in disapproval. "Hermione isn't a regular drinker, dolt. She hasn't touched anything stronger than a flute of champagne at a wedding or on special occasions."

"Oh. Well, um, then for an inexperienced drinker, to get drunk, you'd need…"

"How many would it take, Seamus?" Harry was growing increasingly angry. Hermione was now staring amazedly into her goblet, clearly interested in the colors the neon lights were creating by reflecting off of the prismatic crystal.

"Hey. Hey Mandy! Look- just look at that! Isn't it the prettiest thing you've ever seen!"

"Um…Sure. It's…it's nice."

"It's SHINY!" Mandy looked from a child-like Hermione to Seamus and Harry, who were having a glaring contest.

"It's not _my _fault her blood-alcohol level hasn't ever past .001."

"Oh, and I suppose it was Baby New Year who dropped in and handed her that-that _poison_? How many?"

"I'd say for the inexperienced, two would just about do it."

"Two? She's already had more than double of that! She'll splinch herself for sure trying to get home."

"Well, then, someone will just have to help her home, won't **_he_**." Mandy sated, interrupting before any argument broke out and looking pointedly at Harry. "I certainly can't leave- lest the club be attacked by a mob of hungry witches and wizards demanding to be fed, and Seamus and I need to have a word about giving out alcohol to good girls who don't drink."

"Well then, one of the Weasley brothers can take her." The rest of the small table looked at him as if he were crazy. "What?"

"Number one problem: Ron, Fred and George all went down to the dance floor a half hour ago. They've been gone this whole time. Number two: The three stooges are probably drunker than this one," Mandy muttered, gesturing to Hermione, who had rested her head against Harry's shoulder comfortably. "And number three: Weasley brothers…Think, Potter- the WWW, experiments, canary custards….Ring any bells in there? Were you even listening to what you said? Are you even listening to what _I'm_ saying?" After noticing his green eyes were focused on the slightly snoring Hermione, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder, Mandy rolled her eyes. "Just take her home."

"But Harry can't leave! I need to give him his kiss at midnight." Cho pouted.

"Cho, he can come back. She's already sleeping; all he needs to do is drop her off and make sure there aren't any sharp objects within reach."

"Sharp objects?"

"Well, we wouldn't want her poking out her eyes while trying to cut off her eyelashes with a pair of scissors or something…"

"But why would sh-"

"Can you rationalize everything you've done while drunk?" Mandy stated the last words with annoyance, tossing her dark hair over her shoulders. Cho pondered for a moment, before nodding in understanding. "Well, now think, for a person who's never been drunk before. With nothing else to entertain herself with. In a house all alone…Getting the picture?"

"You should take her home, Harry." Cho stated quietly after watching him watch Hermione sleeping tenderly. "Go, I'll just go find Marietta, I'm sure she's here somewhere, we can hang out and talk about her latest divorce." Harry nodded, and stood to find Ron and let him know they were leaving a bit early.

At the sound of Marietta's name, Hermione's head had popped up. "You still hang about with tha' sneak, then?" Her voice had sobered up a little bit, but she was still obviously intoxicated. "No matter. I hope you don't plan on sticking about, I won't ass-acoatitat-associate with either of you two."

"And why would that affect whether or not I'm around?" Cho asked, venom dripping from the icy tone of her voice.

"Don't be delion-delusional. Even drunk I'm smarter than you!" Hermione erupted in giggles. Before she could continue making a fool of herself, Harry returned with their coats.

"Sorry it took me so long. You ready to head out, then?" He asked, helping her into the black pea coat she'd come in.

"Ready and awaiting further instructions, sir!" Hermione stated, attempting a salute but only managing to smack Mandy in the forehead. "Whoops! Sorry about tha', Mand."

"It's fine, just so long as you never call me 'Mand' again. Happy New Years, hun!" Mandy pecked Harry on the cheek in a friendly manner and draped an arm over Hermione's shoulders, pulling her into a brief hug.

Harry led his stumbling best friend down the neon stairs and through the earsplitting dancing crowd. He passed the guards out the door into the bitter winter air. It was a welcomed cold, soothing the hot sweaty air that nightclubs usually held away. "How did you even get here, Herms?"

"D-don't think tha' just because I'm a lil' bit-"

"A lot." He said, laughing through his teeth.

"- a lot drunk, you can start with the nic-nicknames." Hermione waggled her finger in Harry's face, and attempted to help herself off the curb in a dignified manner, which resulted in a near face-plant.

Years of playing seeker took over, and Harry's reflexes triggered. He wrapped one of his arms around her waist, and pulled her closer, the other arm twisting across her back and under her arms.

Hermione glanced up, shaking the hair out of her eyes and resting her hands on Harry's shoulders to steady herself. Her brown eyes looked into his, past the wire-rimmed glasses he'd been sporting since before Hermione had even met him. There was heavy amounts of amusement in those green eyes, as well as something she didn't quite recognize.

"What, may I ingu-inquire is so funny?" She finally asked through a hiccup.

"What's so funny, my dear, is that I'm standing here outside in the middle of winter, looking at a very inebriated Hermione Granger. The very same Hermione Granger who swore on a worn copy of _Hogwarts, a History_ that she'd forever be the self-proclaimed designated driver."

"Well, there's a broken promise if I ever did see one." Silence remained for a few moments, neither recalling the awkward position they'd managed themselves into before something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle erupted from Hermione.

And another. And another. Soon, Hermione was all-out laughing, snorts, guffaws, and the occasional snigger. Of course, to Harry, she was giving into the alcohol and the irony of the situation. To Hermione, there was that, yes, but also the added feeling of butterflies in her stomach. She wondered if she was going to throw up, then the sound of Mandy's child-like voice rang out in a sing-song way in her head. '_It's the utz. It's laughing when you're around that one special person for no other reason but simply that you're with them. It's knowing you'd rather be with them, then with anyone else in the world. It's rainbows and butterflies, and sometimes it's compromise…'_

Wait, wait, wait….When did Mandy and Maroon 5 become the same person- people- whatever? Maybe she _was_ a lot drunk. She detangled herself from Harry, wishing away the wave of disappointment at the abrupt ending of whatever it was they'd been doing.

"I drove." She stated simply in as sober of a voice as she could manage, answering his previous question.

"Well, I haven't quite grasped muggle cars, but if you'd trust me in yours…"

"N-no, tha's fine. We'll use a portkey."

Harry nodded, and glanced up and down the street to be sure no muggles were present before snatching up a yellowed newspaper from the ground in front of them, and created a new portkey. He held onto one end, and offered the other side to Hermione.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be!" She grabbed it, and waited for the familiar tug at her navel, and the swirling colors erupted around the two of them. Hermione closed her eyes, she'd seen enough swirls tonight, and wanted nothing more then to lie down and sleep.

When they arrived, she nearly fell forward, but reached equilibrium and opened her eyes finally. What she saw in front of her wasn't where she wanted to be at all. It was a nice house, of course, there was nothing structurally wrong with it. Pale blue paint on its outside, perfectly tended poppies and roses all lined up around the brick walkway, the large house was clearly muggle.

"Harry, why aren't we at my flat?"

"Um…Because I don't know where it is?"

"Then, wh-why, pray tell, didn't you ask me be-before taking me to my parp-parent's house drunker my Great Aunt Margaret?" She hissed in an incredulous voice, hiccupping all the while.

Apparently, she hadn't been quiet enough, for the lights of the house flicked on, and the steps began to groan in protest of the weight her sleepy parents. Hermione shot a murderous look in Harry's direction, to which he responded to by recoiling in fear.

"S-sorry?"

"You owe me. Big. _Very_ big." Harry nodded meekly, before perking up a moment later. An idea had struck him.

"Well, then, Miss Granger, how does this sound, as payment for my nefarious crime, I'll meet you every Friday. Every Friday at five, we'll have dinner at, say, the Three Broomsticks and catch up."

"Every Friday? Promise?"

"I promise- cross my heart." Harry said, nodding and making a crossing motion over his heart.

Hermione's cloudy mind wasn't exactly fully coherent at the moment, but the pounding of footsteps in the house goaded her into it. Plus, it meant she could spend more time with Harry, time she'd missed since the trio had left school. Nodding, she pushed him away from the light of the front door and encouraged him to apparate away before her parents finally reached the door.

The gold handle turned, and her mother loomed over her, a surprised expression on her face upon finding Hermione standing there.

"What are you doing here so late, dear?" She asked after getting over the shock. Hermione did her best to compose herself, and act sober.

"I…um…locked myself out of my flat." Yes! She sooo could have been the next Julia Roberts. 'I'd like to thank the academy…'

"What about apparating, or using your wand to get in?"

Whoops. Damn, her mother was smart! "Oh, well, you see, the thing about that is…I have wards! Yes, wards. No one can get in that way…And I um, locked my wand in my car?" Niiice.

"Right. I'm sure you did. Well, if you're already here so late, I suppose you can stay." Hermione smiled gratefully, and followed her mother into the house, shutting the door behind her.

Hermione stomped up the stairs tiredly, and into her old bedroom, which was covered in soft shades of yellow, as it always had been. She settled into the daisy-printed sheets and closed her red-rimed eyes, dreaming of next Friday, and hoping against all odds that she'd wake up hangover-free.

**A/N: **Well, I don't know if the drunk really act/feel like that. I find my sister amusing when she's drunk, but yeah, never been so myself. I can't even drink legally yet. Oh well. Anyways, tell me what you think, love it, hate it, etc. Oh, and these updates are almost certainly going to have longer intervals of time between them for a while, until Phoenix Princess is at least done. But, maybe if I get enough reviews and encouragement, I'll speed up the updates for this fic…(nudge, nudge, wink, wink)

**Special thanks to my reviewers: Aquarius Chik 101, Hermione Graner Potter, ChickabiddyPotter, Tywell, the-power-of-love, Aquarius Chik 101, and sinta1. You guys rock!**


	3. Hangover Chic

**Disclaimer: Nope, sorry, unfortunately for me, I still don't own any thing you recognize.**

**A/N: **More snow, another day off. So, I'm writing this now, and am just going to prolong posting it, which makes more time for more people to submit reviews, 'cause I'm greedy like that ;-).

**Chapter Three: Hangover Chic**

Obviously, Hermione's plea to wake up sans hangover was denied, thus her strange choice of dress. She stood in her sunny-yellow bedroom in a pair of baggy old sweats and a tiny shirt that hadn't fit right since about sixth year, the words 'Reading is Sexy' were written across it to the left of an image of a stack of books.

And of course, the garnishes any sufferer of the aftereffects of the evils of alcohol were included- she had the Jackie O. sunglasses her aunt gave her three years ago on her birthday, and swimmer's earplugs from the synchronized swimming lessons her mother had forced her into at age nine. Hermione knew what she had to do, and how to do it, as a trained combatant in the art of subtly- it was Mission: Hide Hangover.

She was positive that there was still some vomit in her hair when she stumbled down the steps and into the kitchen, based on the way her mother's nose scrunched up with distaste upon Hermione's entrance. Helen Granger was standing over the stove, giving domestics a go for the umpteenth time. It wasn't going very well.

Smoke curled out from the toaster, eggshells lined the counter, and there was flour on everything including the kitchen sink- and Helen herself. Her mother hadn't ever been the cooking, cleaning machine that some mothers were, but she was bluntly honest, smart, and on the occasion, entertaining.

Helen set a plate of runny eggs, burnt toast, shriveled bacon, and undercooked pancakes in front of Hermione, and looked at her expectantly. Her stomach turned at the mere scent of it. Hermione studied her mother with an eye of scrutiny, noting her mother's typically perfectly curled hair was just as frizzy as her own, and her face smudged with dough and flour. "Going for that homemaker-gone-wrong look again, Mum?" She asked in a voice thick and raspy.

"And I suppose you're just _mad_ over that new 'Hangover Chic' that seems to be all the rage with the young crowd these days. What was it that reeled you in, the vomit as a hair accessory, or the vodka perfume?" Helen quipped back, (in a mercifully quiet tone- thank goodness for small miracles!) tapping her daughter's nose with the spatula.

Hermione groaned, and just missed slamming her head in her breakfast on its way to the tabletop, unfortunately making for a worse-off headache than she had started with. Was it really that obvious? Had she not been her model-self last night, the picture of soberness?

"I noticed right off, by the way." Apparently not. "You smelled like your father does after a night at the Fifth Street Pub, and certainly you didn't think I'd miss the hiccupping?" Helen finished her question and broke off into hysterical cackles.

The younger girl pursed her lips into a straight line and her face tightened, doing her legendary impression of Professor McGonagall. "I'm glad you had such fun. Honestly, Mum, leading your only daughter on like that!"

"I can have as much fun with you as I want, _because_ you're my only daughter. Don't worry though, it'll get better. I made this for you." Helen placed a tall glass of something thick and red in front of her, taking her attempt at breakfast and clearing it away into the garbage. "Such a shame…wish I could cook…OH, and you'll want to drink that straight off, all of it, or I'll turn your father's country records on- volume all the way up!"

Hermione winced at the threat- she disliked the music alone, but with the dull pounding of a constant headache and the sudden sensitivity to light and sound, it would be pure torture. Well, her mother made a fine cup of coffee, and a lovely hot cocoa, maybe drink-making was her forte. Hermione picked up the glass, and tilted her head back.

Maybe it _wasn't_ her forte. She should defiantly cross off 'bar tending' from her list of possible careers. The flavor was almost enough for Hermione to want to grab the plate of this morning's cooking endeavor out of her mother's hand and swallow it all, simply to rid herself of the taste. She finished it off though, downing it in a last gulp.

"Merlin that was awful!"

"That's what it's supposed to taste like. I mastered that dreadful concoction during my sophomore year at university- that's where I learned to make a smashing apple martini. I'll give you the recipe someday, it's fabulous! Anyway, back on topic- it's what you get for going off and getting trashed like that. It's time to pay the price, love. Whatever gave you the idea anyway? I bet it was those twins- boy, when I get my hands on those Weasleys-" Her mother always had a quick temper. Her face scrunched up as she envisioned what she could do to make them pay for their heinous conduct.

"No, it wasn't Fred and George, although they held one hell of a Christmas bash- I'll dish all the dirty details when my head doesn't feel as if it's recently played host to a herd of frigging battering rams. No, that asshole Seamus just put a goblet in front of me, and I figured, why the hell not? It was New Years after all, and…oh, well, Cho's Ice Bitch impersonation might have done a _teensy bit _to push my hand toward that damn alcohol. Bloody goblet." Hermione ranted, muttering darkly towards the end of the tirade.

"Don't blame your problems on an inanimate object, dear, it's not sane. And _watch_ _that_ _language_! If you want to talk and act like a ruddy sailor, go ahead, have a scandalous time, just not under this roof!" Helen took a quick sip of the tea she'd poured herself before continuing. "I am quite interested in this _push_ however. Did she come up from behind? Or was it a full-on catfight? Did it land you on your bum at the bottom of the stairs, or were you still standing?"

"Oh, not literally, Mum, don't be crazy!"

"I'm not crazy, dear, never crazy; dentists have generous salaries and enough money so that I'm referred to as eccentric."

"Right-o, I'll write that down sometime between ports and my wicked sailor-esque exploits. At any rate, the **figurative** push occurred straight off. She wasn't even supposed to be there, in the garret tables, anyway- I mean, Mandy and Seamus would have totally left her to rot down by the bar if she hadn't shown up with Harry and totally ign-"

Helen perked up at the tail end of what Hermione said. "I think we've just started getting down to the root of the problem, pet."

"What's that supposed to mean? How could we? I didn't even get passed her showing up with Harry, not to the p-"

"Elementary, my dear Watson." Helen cut her daughter off again.

"Stop _doing_ that, _Sherlock_!" Can't even get a word in…Her mother was almost as pushy as _she_ was…

"I apologize. I'll send you a sorry-gram tomorrow, but in the mean time I'll explain, seeing as we've reached your blind spot. Let's break it down. You show up, Seamus gives you a drink," Hermione nodded to each statement, curious as to what her mother was getting at. "Next, and the most deliciously outrageous part of the evening, Harry walks in with Cho,"

"Keep going…"

"No, that's the end." Helen replied, slowly, as if talking to a child.

"No it isn't! You totally lost me. There was the whole thing were she ignored me. Oh, and that _little_ bit with the alcohol." Hermione said, her last statement said with a certain amount of sarcasm.

"Oh, yeah, and that. So it would be show up, receive drink, Harry and Cho, get drunk, be ignored."

"Strike those last two and reverse them." Hermione added standing and pouring herself some coffee. She put in half the usual cream- for all the more potency- and extra sugar for additional sweetness; somehow she felt she'd need it. She returned to her pastel blue chair, the color to match the rest of the kitchen décor.

"Fine. Done. Still, aren't you seeing this? The evening had a turning point. That turning point- for you anyway, was the 'Harry and Cho' part."

"Well…I guess I never really liked her, per say, but that doesn't necessarily mean I wanna come after her with a pitchfork, or anything! How would you feel being igno-"

"Grangers aren't ignored when they don't want to be. Or cut off, for that matter- you're off your game! Nice imagery, by the way, did you know our family lived in Transylvania for a time? Maybe the whole chasing-with-a-pitchfork-thing is in our blood. We could get a mob, you see, and go after the town monster…I can hear the chants of 'Get Cho, Get Cho!' from the audience…Ooh, and I can see it too! Torches, pitchforks, and Ice Bitches, oh my!"

She's right, mob scene and attack plans aside. Hermione grudgingly admitted. Then again, she always is. 'Now I know why Ron acts like such an ass…it's because he's around someone who's chronically bossy and insufferably accurate.'

"But why would I want to be ignored?"

"You let yourself be ignored so you wouldn't have to confront the real reason you were actually fumingly livid at Cho."

"And why, dearest Mother of mine, is that?" She questioned, taking a large gulp of her coffee from the delicate cup.

"It's because you're in love with Harry, of course."

Hermione spit her coffee the whole length of the kitchen table, spraying it all over. She choked down what had remained in her mouth, and dropped the cup she'd held in her hand. It shattered, small irreplaceable flower-printed shards scattering across the pale yellow kitchen tiles.

"Really now, was that necessary? That's our best china! Serves me right for giving it to someone so unstable, I suppose. But, kudos on the length that coffee flew. I'm surprised you missed the ceiling."

"Well, I'll try harder next time you say something crazy- oh, I'm sorry, eccentric." Hermione snapped.

Was she still drunk? She had to be. Or maybe it was her mother. Of course! It had to be…Her mother was on_ crack_! That would explain it all. Helen Granger would never admit to having been repeatedly intoxicated herself, let alone flat out offer Hermione her recipe for a "smashing apple martini." And this last statement she'd made…It was enough to get her landed in a padded room. Or at least in rehab. She'd have to find a nice, quiet one to cart her off to- maybe she could google it later.

'No…Calm down, Hermione. It's time to rationalize.' She _did_ spend quite a lot of time talking about Harry, talking to Harry, thinking about Harry…Hmm…Okay, so maybe she had the smallest little thing for him…He was a right handsome bloke, and it was only natural after spending so much time in the company of males that she develop more than friendly feelings towards one…

But love? She could scarcely claim to ever have felt it for anyone outside of the companionable sense, but Hermione was positive she could recognize it if she had. But then again…Her mother had mentioned something about a 'blind spot' and she _was _known for naïveté when it came to dealing with her feelings.

No. It simply couldn't be. It might ruin a perfectly good friendship, one she'd worked years to keep together. She'd sewn up rips in the barriers with threads of loyalty and trust, so any opening to a new kind of relationship had been closed off by Hermione herself. Besides, she was perfectly content. She was fine, peachy, comfortable, alright with what they had.

"Okay, so maybe I do have a… _thing_…But it's simply physical attraction based on the amount of time I've spent with said male specimen. Both of us are healthy, sexual beings with certain…certain _urges_. And that's it. It's a passing enticement."

Helen gave an exasperated sigh, and shook her head. Her brown eyes shot skyward and toward the ceiling, as if the answers to her problems were written across it. No such luck. Well, if her daughter was going to be the typical ignorant, stubborn woman she was, Helen would simply have to up the ante, and increase the meddling factors. Maybe she'd give Harry a call… "Okay, if that's what you say…"

"It is." Hermione affirmed. "And I'm leaving. Don't touch the shards; I'll be back come dinner with my wand."

"Better call triple A. They'll have to unlock that car of yours so you can get it out."

Hermione stuck out her tongue in reply, and stood to leave. She pecked her mother on the cheek before calling out with a simple, "Bye Mum!" over her shoulder, breezing out the door.

* * *

Sometime later, Hermione entered her house through the front door, hanging her car keys on the hook and kicking the sandals she wore into her room through the open doorway. It had taken her a while to get down to _The Broken Broomstick_ to retrieve her car.

She pushed play on her answering machine, hoping for a message from Justin about this week's outbreak of Muggle Mumps. It was a variation of the mumps; only this sort temporarily stole the magic out of the affected witch or wizard, leaving them to live as a muggle during the infliction, and for at least a week after. She'd already treated three cases this week at St. Mungos where she worked as a Healer, and down in Research and Development, she was taking part in the search for a vaccination.

"You have -four- new messages. You have –thirteen- old messages." She really needed to clear out those old messages. Along with the rest of her flat…She started to gather her piles and piles of laundry, pausing at what she heard. A smile covered her face as she listened to the recording.

'_Hey, it's Hermione, I'm not here, so leave a message and I'll get back to you!' **'Unless you're a Slytherin, 'cause if you are, then you can rot in bloody Azkaban!' 'Yeah, go mourn for your Master…'**_ _'Harry, Ron, shut your bloody traps- hey, is this still recording? Turn it off! –Beeeep-'_

"Hey babe… I'll just die if you don't show up on Wednesday…I know I totally stole your blue mini, but it was an _emergency_! I'm sorry; in any case, you know you're my favorite cousin, so yeah…just…please? Tom Welling only seems half as hot when you're mad at me…"

Ah, Stephanie. Her constantly bubbly cousin was the same age as she, and the two met up over the phone or online, or occasionally in person to watch Smallville every Wednesday. Last week she stole her blue mini skirt without permission, but Hermione had already forgiven her.

"Hermy, darling! I've been buzzing around town- literally- and I've been hearing quite a bit about a little episode you've neglected to tell me about, to which I say shame on you! I'll be contacting you for more on the juicy tidbit, lest you involve the Ministry- anyway, I'll be in touch."

Rita. She'd have to be particularly inconspicuous and guarded for the next few weeks.

"You're very hard to get a hold of, Miss Granger. As the number one benefactor to the Library of Rare Books, you're cordially invited and encouraged to attend our annual ball. You'll receive an invitation through the post. Dress accordingly."

Hm…Now she had to scrounge up a date. If it hadn't been for this thing she had for Harry suddenly being cast into the light, she might have asked him to go, but certainly not now. Ron was a definite no, not that he wouldn't love to chow down on the food, he was just too adapted to wizarding life to not make a fool out of himself in the presence of muggles. Maybe she'd give Malfoy a call. She'd just love to see _that_.

"Hey! I didn't know you kept that recording…Anyway, just called to find out where you were. It _is _Friday after all. If you've forgotten, I sound like an idiot. If you haven't, then you better get your ass down here. Oh, and you're mum says I'll just love you in your 'Hangover Chic'. Such a convenient coincidence the day after your drunken escapade is a Friday…"

Hermione nearly dropped the laundry basket she'd been carrying when the message began. She let out a small 'meep' before glancing at the clock. If she left the house now, she could still make it. That little _sneak_! When she got her hands on Potter she…she…she'd have to figure something out on the way to the Three Broomsticks, that's what.

**A/N: **Good, yes, no? Let me know, for goodness sakes! Reviewers are my heros, feedback is my addiction. And yes, I am well aware that all three of my chapters so far have titles that have something to do with drunkenness, or the aftereffects. I don't encourage it, though. Oh, and Aquarius was my inspiration for the 'mob-with-pitchforks-going-after-Cho' thing. I also know that Hermione might seem a bit ooc, but understand, this is under the humor genre for a reason, and she's comfortable with her mother at home, so she's more relaxed. Any who, did I mention I -heart- reviews? I hope I did. Because I do.

**Reviewers: Gah, too lazy to mention you all. Sorry 'bout that, I've still not showered yet and I'm…well, just plain lazy. Not that I don't appreciate you all taking your time to submit a review. Because I do. So totally. Anyway, this chapter wasn't even supposed to go out 'til next Friday, so you should be happy I'm in a good mood from getting my Gilmore Girl's fix (my other addiction happens to come in the form of the wonderful character Logan- just adore him) and was willing to post. But that's off topic. So, to all my reviewers: YOU ROCK!**


	4. Sexy Virgins

**Disclaimer: I'm so poor I couldn't buy myself stick of gum. If I did own this, do you honestly think I wouldn't be able to afford _at least_ a jumbo pack of Winterfresh? Come on, people! **

**A/N: **TGIF, people. I had extended periods of history and geometry due to debates, which I got to see NONE of, and totally missed the supposedly hot guy from another school. And I got to see a picture of a lung with emphysema…Joy. Welcome to my day. Anyway, here's the next chapter. I'm loving the way this fic is going, so yeah. More updates for you- Yay.

**Chapter Four: Sexy Virgins**

Harry was beginning to think that Hermione _had_ forgotten about their little arrangement, meaning he really did sound like an idiot on that message recording. Sighing through his teeth, he called Madame Rosmerta over for the tenth time that evening.

"Another butterbeer for ya, Harry?"

"Nah, I think I'll take something a little stronger this time. A bit of firewhiskey, please."

The aged witch nodded, and disappeared for a moment, taking Harry's tenth empty butterbeer bottle with her. Well, he knew one thing for sure, there were two possible out comes of this little endeavor, either Hermione showed up and he had to pee, or Hermione didn't show up, and, well, he still had to pee.

Rosmerta set a tall glass of smoking red firewhiskey in front of him, and leaned against the nearby bar. "Who're ya waitin' on?

"Oh, just Hermione. She was supposed to be here at five."

"It's half past six. Are you sure she's coming? That girl's never been know to be late."

"Actually I'm really not quite sure. I kind of sprung this on her last minute."

"How last minute?"

"I…I um…left a message on her machine at around four forty five…"

Madame Rosmerta made a tutting noise, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth while wiping down a barstool with a rag. "It's never good to do that to a girl! You men think we take too long getting ready as it is…" Rosmerta seemed to forget she was directing her comments towards Harry, and went into a full-on rant aimed at the spot on the counter that just wouldn't disappear.

Harry picked up his drink, stared at it for a moment before tilting it back. A flash of hot flavor rushed over his taste buds. It was an acquired thing, a tolerance for the once fire-hot drink that he'd eventually grown after drinking it increasingly, causing it to only seem endurably zesty.

That moment of firewhiskey musings was ruined by a loud bang produced from the wooden door. A figure stood there, her hair flying wildly in the cold winter winds, baggy sweatpants tied around her small waist.

"Potter!" Hermione growled out, in a voice so filled with disgust that Malfoy would have been proud of. "You little conniving bastard!"

Behind the counter, Rosmerta jumped and nearly dropped a goblet of gillywater she'd been carrying to a customer. The other patrons immediately focused their attention on the two of them.

He raised his eyebrows and quickly swallowed his mouthful before his mouth could open wide into the smirk Harry had been holding in since last night. He took in the rest of her appearance, some sunglasses, a pair of purple earplugs, and a tight shirt that proclaimed 'Reading is Sexy' that she might as well as gotten out of a hooker's closet.

Wasn't that a bit of an oxymoron, to have a virgin exhibiting characteristics similar to that of a hooker? 'Well…who's to say she _is_ a virgin?' Stated a tiny voice in the back of his head. 'It's not like she'd tell you those kinds of things…That's why she's got Mandy.' A small wave of…was that anger? Well, whatever it was, it crashed into him like a tidal wave, overtaking his thoughts. What reason had he to be angry, anyway? It wasn't any of his business in the first place.

Shaking the thoughts away and pushing the emotions down, Harry made his comment. "Been out saving drowning puppies? That would explain the earplugs, but what about the rest? Have you ditched Madame Malkin and started taking fashion advice from a concubine?"

That was the wrong thing to say. Actually, of all the things to say, that would have to be the absolute _worst_.

"Kiss my ass, you man-whore."

Harry, who had taken another large gulp of his firewhiskey, began to sputter. This, of course, was also the wrong thing to do, seeing as sputtering is hard to do with a mouthful of burning hot liquid. That burning hot liquid has to go somewhere, when you refuse to open your mouth and your constricting throat won't let it pass through. This place being, of course, the nose.

Red firewhiskey flew out of Harry's at great speed, burning the inner passage way of his nostrils. His eyes watered, and he coughed heavily. Had she just _cursed_ at him? It took quite a lot to get Hermione's mouth to spout swear words, which pretty much meant he was in deep, smelly, steaming _shite_.

"What the hell did you think you were doing, being funny? Well, I can tell you, this isn't going to be a bloody walk in the park for you, this dinner- I'm going to make it hell for you."

"But-" Harry tried to interject.

"I'm not done yet, Potter. Do know how much of a bloody _day_ I've had? It sucked. I threw up in my hair. And haven't even washed it out yet! I smell like frigging puke, damn it!"

Harry had backed up until his chair was all the way against the wall. He couldn't look away from her face, no matter how terrified of the crazy-eyed woman in front of him he was- like a disaster you can't help but watch, even though you know it's going to be gruesome. To be completely honest with himself, he found her wild ringlets and the healthy flush in her cheeks well, bluntly put, hot. Well, those and the fact that she was getting closer and closer and the hooker-shirt was becoming more and more visible. 'NO! Bad thoughts...Snape in a dress…'

"Do you know what it feels like, you little miscreant, to have the bleedin' knight bus ram into your head? NO? Well I do! And I expect a little sympathy from the sons-of-bitches I call friends. I've been through hell today. You are such an _asshole_! No, better yet, you're a fu-"

"Miss Granger!" At this point, Harry had started to claw at the wall, and Hermione had at some point pulled her arm back, and formed a fist with her hand. All this was stopped with the commanding tone of a single voice both parties recognized.

Hermione's face drained of all color. It was an interesting thing to watch, his best friend going from a shade of purple reminiscent of his Uncle Vernon on a bad day to the sickly white similar to the color of paste, with a tad bit of green tossed in. "P-p-professor!" She squeaked, stumbling over the single word.

"…completely inappropriate! There are students all around, Miss Granger, did you not take notice, or did you find them an unimportant part of your _day_?" Professor Minerva McGonagall towered over Hermione at an impressive height, her face, though wrinkled, was still as ever stern and tight. Her eyes held a certain amount of anger and disappointment behind her usual square spectacles.

She was right. There were students milling about the pub, it was a Hogsmeade weekend for Hogwarts, apparently. Harry himself hadn't noticed though, so he could hardly blame a fuming Hermione.

"I'm so sorry, Professor, I-I was just so angry and you know how I get when I'm _passionate _about a subject…I'm completely and only involved in that subject…You remember how I was during school, always researching this and studying that…" She managed to pull of a school-girl look, fiddling with her shirt and squirming.

McGonagall's lips pursed into an even smaller line, if that was possible and she nodded her head, though it seemed to take much difficulty for the movement to occur. "Well. Next time might you consider checking to see if little ears are present?"

"Oh, of course!" That seemed to appease the professor, who left in a flourish of emerald green robes.

"Well…That was _interesting_…"

"Gee Harry, with my whole speech and all you'd think you might get the idea that I could have used some _help_!"

Oh. So that's what was up with all the freaky hand gestures and the constant eye-contact. She'd been looking at him so much he'd begun to think he had a boogie. Well, there was that and he'd been staring at her quivering lips throughout most of the apology.

"Sorry 'bout that, really I am. C'mon, I'm forever begging for your mercy, oh-so-brilliant-one." Harry said this, settling on his knees and grabbing her hand as if to grovel. Hermione simply rolled her eyes in reply. He placed a quick peck to each of her fingers, to which she responded by shivering out of either disgust or pleasure, he wasn't sure. Either way, it had worked because her face curled up into a sweet smile.

"Truce?"

"Fine. But only because I can't stand to see the Boy-Who-Lived become the Boy-Who-Begs-at-My-Feet."

"Yeah…I suppose that wouldn't be too pleasant once your socks come off. I'm not much of a foot-man, myself."

She laughed heartily at that. "Are you implying my feet stink?"

"Well, if the shoe fits…"

"What size shoe?"

"Nine."

"Oh, well, then it doesn't. I'm a size seven and a half."

"Good to know for future shoe-shopping references. Not that I'd buy women's shoes."

"Not even for me?" Hermione pouted, her brown eyes shining.

Oh Merlin, not the pout, he could never really turn down Hermione's pouts. Usually, the situation ended in him succumbing to whatever it was she'd wanted him to do in the first place, usually something unpleasant like last time, when she forced him to set up a pet-play date between Hedwig and Crookshanks. Goodness knows how _that_ turned out- poor Hedwig was still trying to grow back her tail feathers.

Hermione settled into a chair, and Harry followed. They began chatting, catching up like they'd both promised. It wasn't long before Harry lost control of his mouth. He'd meant to keep it shut, after that last fiasco about her chosen style of dress, but this just couldn't go untouched.

Harry locked his green eyes with her brown ones. "Okay, now we've got a truce, I need to ask you something." She raised an eyebrow and nodded her consent, settling into the chair he'd been saving for her. Taking a deep breath, he finally asked the one question he'd been dying to ask her all evening. "Did you know you're not wearing any shoes?"

"I…what?" Hermione looked down to the ground, where her feet were beneath the table. There were no shoes there, nothing but a pair of blue socks with images of monkeys printed on them. She blushed instantaneously, her cheeks a bright crimson. "Oh, I kicked my sandals into my room. Must have forgotten."

Harry laughed, and dropped a few sickles onto the table, paying the bill without question. He stood, and Hermione followed his example, not quite sure as to where they were going. "C'mon Cinderella, we'll get you some shoes at Madame Malkin's." He took another look at her while throwing his arm over her shoulder and leading her in the direction of the door. "Better yet, how about an entire outfit?"

**A/N: **Hm…Could have been better, I think. It felt like a filler chapter. Well, I know what I think, and you know what I think, so let's finish the puzzle and you can let me know what you think. By reviewing, please. Anyway, that's all for now, folks. If I'm struck by another idea for a chapter, it'll be up. If not, well, then…you get the picture.

**Reviews: Okay, so normally I do direct responses, but again, I've grown lazy. So, to any and all reviewers: YOU ROCK! Oh, and for those who did mention Mrs. Granger….I'd have to say I agree. She's my best OC, and by far the funniest. I appreciate all those who took/take time to read and review my story, so here are my thanks: THANKS! Oh, and hugs too ;-).**


	5. Everybody's a Comedian

**Disclaimer: Here, I wrote a poem this time:**

**I own a phone**

**I own this poem**

**I own a movie about Rome**

**But I do not wish to remain**

**Suspected of staking a claim**

**Or taking advantages and perks**

**From someone else's works**

**For that might entail**

**A lawsuit which would land me in jail**

**I know I won't make bail**

**Which will keep me from ever going to Yale**

**A/N: **Not that I could make the grades anyway…But it rhymed, and yes, I admit I got carried away on that disclaimer. Anyway, thanks for the feedback and encouragement! I'm fed up with my daily life and this is my escape to the funny farm for a little while. When the chapter is over, I'll go back to blah-land and the norm unless you give me an excuse for another visit while writing another chapter. And yes, I am aware that made zero sense whatsoever.

**Chapter Five: Everybody's a Comedian**

_Tap-tap-tap_

It was just after six in the morning on a lovely Friday in late April. Sun shown through the curtains and onto the relaxed face of a sleeping Hermione Granger, giving her an innocent appearance. That innocence was destroyed the moment the insufferable tapping began. She yanked her pillow over her head, hoping to drown out the noise.

_Tap-tap-tap_

It wasn't working. With a groan, Hermione sat up and pushed her comforter away. Her feet hit the cool hardwood floor, avoiding the mirror. She knew Stanley- the looking glass- would criticize her mussed up hair and botchy face.

Through the hallway and to the doorway she went, stretching and yawning all the while. Through the peep hole she saw a very confused man scratching his head. Hermione pulled open the door quickly, putting on a polite smile and covering up with her robe at the same time.

"Whoever you are you'd better have a damn good reason for getting me up."

"Are you Ms. Granger?" She nodded in reply. "Then we've got a letter for you!"

"Isn't it customary for you to simply put it through the slot? Not to mention it's quite early for post…"

"Well, I was instructed to give this to you specifically at this time- it's not even my post route." He explained digging through his messenger bag. "Here we are."

"Thanks." Hermione murmured, accepting it and opening it with a frown.

'_Esteemed Miss Hermione Jane Granger,_

_We are pleased to invite you to our annual spring gala. As a frequent donator, you are most welcome and encouraged to bring along a companion and are hereby asked to open the dancing and the evening with a small speech describing the importance of the rare literature which we collect within our prestigious walls. Your invitation and the required information are included._

_Cordially,_

_Chairwoman of the Library of Rare Books,_

_Mrs. Laurel Leigh McBride'_

Oh yes. She'd nearly forgotten about the party. Still no date, and the message announcing it was still on her machine, although she'd gotten it nearly four months ago, back when she and Harry had first started the annual Friday night dinners. Hermione might have had a chance of going alone if not for this whole opening-the-dancing bull. Last time she'd opened the dancing was fourth year, and back then even if she made a fool of herself, in the end she still won out, because Victor was her partner.

Shuffling into her bedroom, she decided it was time to get dressed, so she could find something to wear to the party. And to do that, she'd have to face Stanley the Sardonic. Her apartment was wonderful, a quiet place with cozy furnishings and plush carpets. The only drawback was Stanley. He was something of a legend, a man turned mirror by his wife. She was a spiteful, jealous creature who was tired of her husband staring into the mirror to the point where she'd transfigured him into what he seemed to love most- a mirror. The mirror couldn't be moved, however, from the walls of the Victorian-style house-turned-apartment building.

Now, trapped in his looking glass self and never again able to stare at his 'roguishly handsome' features again, he refused to make a kind or positive comment about anyone's state of dress who dared look into his surface. Hermione put up with him only because she loved the flat.

"Well, aren't we working the roll-outta-bed look this morning!"

"Hello Stanley. I see you haven't magically been changed into Stanley the Self-effacing overnight."

"No, sorry muffin, I'm still my egotistical narcissist self, and you, you darling haven't changed into a style savvy woman, and remain the demure dorky dresser you've always been."

"Dapperly demure and dorky." She corrected, sitting in front of Stanley and combing her hair into something of a style.

"I'm sorry, did you say _dapper_? As in, snazzy, stylish, chic, dresser? I hope my ears deceive me and have mistaken disheveled for dapper."

"I wish you'd grow up, Stanley, I'm sure your advanced vocabulary could come in handy somewhere other than my bedroom." Hermione stated, now applying light amounts of make-up.

"Says the woman in the frog-print pajamas."

"Well, I'm about to change out of those and I'll ask you to kindly shut your face as to my choice of dress this morning, as I've got enough on my bloody plate without the comments from the peanut gallery!" Hermione stood and headed to her closet, tossing choices out on the bed. Evaluating them, she picked a knee-length denim jean skirt and a pink shirt. She added a pair of yellow flip flops and a matching zipper-up sweatshirt.

Hermione tossed some floo powder into the fireplace in her living room, and pronounced clearly, 'Raven's Glen' before sticking her head into the flickering flames. The Brocklehurst-Finnegan sitting room came into view; its surfaces covered in quidditch magazines and Mandy's aromatherapy candles.

"Brocklehurst? Finnegan?"

"Granger!" A voice shouted from the house. Mandy appeared, rushing into the room to greet her. "Hey hun!"

"Hey. Now, I need help."

"What kind?"

"I seek the all-knowing advice of Ms. Badger." Hermione said, a smirk in place while using the code she and Mandy had formulated.

"Hm…Ms. Badger needs more information, Ms. Lioness- Levi or Hilfiger?"

"Neither. Vera."

"Vera! Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"So can you make it?"

"I have this thing in a minute that'll take about an hour, but I'll come as soon as possible."

"Great. I'm going to head down to _Dream Dresses_ and meet you there."

* * *

The sound of metal hangers scraping against the bar they hung from was continuous around Hermione Granger, card carrying Indecisive Shopper Extrodonare. She'd been through practically all the dresses in the store, and couldn't seem to find one that fit the occasion. It was a muggle store she was in, of course because the event wasn't a wizarding one.

She'd gotten there about an hour and a half ago, meaning that Mandy was either running late, or been tied down with something. If it was Seamus' work, then ropes most likely. Possibly fuzzy handcuffs. Hermione sighed and pulled out a taffeta dress in her size. She made a face before shoving it back on the rack. She needed something low key but flattering, and Pebble's extravagant work wasn't offering much assistance.

The store itself was somewhat of a joke, pink covered it from ceiling to floor, wall to wall. Puffy chairs reminiscent of those found at a certain tea room in Hogsmeade gave her the chills. The place was filled with heavy amounts of lace and roses in crystalline vases.

"Can I help you dear? Oh, it's you Hermione!" A squeaky voice asked. Pebble Stone, the proprietor of the store, had strolled up to her with an armful of dresses. She smiled crookedly at Hermione and observed her from head to toe. "I think I've got a dress for you, darling."

"Actually Pebble, I wasn't going to-" The short round woman wasn't listening, and had disappeared behind the counter, looking for something pink and poufy. Making a face, Hermione ambled on, browsing at what they had. Before she could continue, however, an arm shot out from one of the circular clothes racks and yanked her in. She was squashed against someone else's body from behind, and therefore had no view of who it was.

"Yip!" She cried, sounding much like her Aunt Margaret's miniature poodle. A hand clamped over her mouth and a string of 'shh's erupted from the mouth of her best female friend.

"Gosh, what on earth was taking you so long!"

"You were the one who was late!" Hermione exclaimed in an outraged tone, spinning around to get a better look at Mandy. What she saw was enough to make Grumpy of The Seven Dwarves fame erupt in uncontrollable laughter. There standing in front of her, was Mandy Brocklehurst- practically the vainest person she knew, crimson red from head to toe. Hermione laughed so hard she snorted. She couldn't breath- oxygen wasn't as important right now as the hilarity of the situation. "You look like a lobster!"

Mandy gave an annoyed sigh, and rolled her eyes. "Well that's the most bloody brilliant thing that's ever come out of your mouth, Herms. I'm sure it'll get you on stand-up, in a joke book at the very least…Last time I ever use a freaking muggle tanning bed." She finished with a huff.

"N-no! Seriously, break out the butter and spread it on your forehead, and you could totally pass as a half of a surf 'n' turf dinner!"

"Very funny. I've got a comedian for a friend. I can tell you'll be one of the greats- Jay Leno and Conan will ask you how you got your start, and you'll credit it to this moment. Let's just go before you're asked to host the Grammies with your wit and abundant humor." Mandy turned her to the center of the clothes rack and pointed to the floor with one red index finger. There was a latch there, a trap door.

"Where's it lead?"

"C'mon, I'll show you." Mandy held onto her arm and pulled it up, revealing a ladder. She continued to haul her downward.

"Relax with the yanking of the arm and the pulling of the friend. Those claws of yours could do some real damage!"

"Hahaha. Shut it." After finishing climbing, Hermione dropped onto her feet and pivoted, taking in her surroundings. The room was decorated in blacks and reds, gauzy scarves hung over the lamps, giving the basement room a relaxed affect. There were no windows, and no more furniture than a lamp and red leather couch.

"Have you taken me to a torture chamber, or is this supposed to be a beatnik poetry gathering sort of thing?"

"No, this is Opal's place."

"Opal, Opal Stone, as in the daughter of Pebble Stone, Queen of all Pink Tool?"

"Yeah, this is my underground operation." A third voice stated, announcing Opal's arrival. She stood there, her blond curls highlighted with red, her delicate nose pierced. "It's a little more modern than Mum's."

"Indigenous told me his daughter decided to open up this place for the customers looking for something other than his dear Pebble's work, so I thought you might like to see it." Mandy said shrugging.

"Really? I'd always thought you were a chip off the old rock." Opal blinked, and Hermione laughed.

"Don't mind her, Opal. She thinks she's funny today."

"Alright then…Mandy already gave me some clues as to what you were looking for, so I found something I think you might like." Opal moved to a doorway in the back, and took a dress enclosed in a cover off of it. She unzippered it and tossed the cover onto the couch, showing Hermione a lovely gown.

It was a strapless gown in ivy green. The bodice was beaded daintily in patterns, which trailed down to the skirt as well. It flared out a bit at the waist, and had the tiniest of a train in the back. Opal smiled proudly at the stunned look on Hermione's face, and Mandy nodded her approval. "Opal! This is…it's…Perfect!"

"It's green, just as specified."

"Specified by whom? Why green?" Hermione asked her curiosity peaked.

"By me…And because, I just thought it would do well to match your date, and I've decided his color is green, because of how well it matches his eyes, you see."

"Date? What date are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me…" Mandy chastised, wagging a finger in her face.

"I haven't got a date, honestly!"

"Liar! You shouldn't lie, Herms. My mother, she always told me, every time you lie, your hips grow a pound heavier."

"No, it's your nose, and it grows longer, Pinocchio. Besides, I'm not lying."

"Nope, it's the hips, I've tried it, and it works. Now, stop it! Everyone knows you leave the house at four forty-five every Friday, and apparate to The Three Broomsticks, where you're early for a five o'clock dinner with our mutual pal Harry."

"So…"

"So you're dating him and you haven't even told me!" For a moment, Hermione stood in front of Mandy sputtering, her face flushed at the simple and casual way Mandy had said it, as if it were a natural accusation.

Oh great. Her Mum must've gotten Mandy hooked too. All her friends and family members were crack junkies! Maybe the people at the rehab center could get them a room together; they could heal together, and talk about their problems. Plus, it two to a room might cut down on the time it took for her to visit. The less time Hermione spent hauled up in that place visiting her crack addicted friends, the better.

Maybe it was a conspiracy. They were all out to get her! Accusing her of something as stupid as dating or being interested in dating Harry like that…Oh great. Now she had paranoid conspiracy theories, and it was all because of some stupid _thing_ she had for Harry being mistaken as more than what it was. She composed herself, and turned her attention back to Mandy.

"They're not dates. Just casual dinner meetings with my 'pal' Harry." She said a-matter-of-factly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Opal looked over from where she'd been ringing up the dress, interested. As a half-blood witch, last time Hermione had checked, Opal was in training with Professors Lavender and Parvati, Mistresses of Gossip, hence her sudden interest in the conversation.

"Right. I'll believe you when pigs fly."

"They do."

"I mean real pigs. It's a muggle expression, with muggle animals, excluding magical creatures. And I mean when they fly sans magic. Besides, you've got the utz for him."

"A fan of the Beautician and the Beast, Mandy?" Opal asked, raising her eyebrows.

"What?"

"It's a movie."

"A what?"

"Forget it. Look, are you going to take the dress or not?"

"I'll take it. Thanks." Hermione stated, taking the garment in question out of Opal's hands and offered her the cash for it. She and Mandy retreated to the ladder, making sure to be quiet about the exit. "And just for the record, they aren't dates!" Mandy rolled her eyes and pushed her upwards, jamming her shoulder into her back.

"Ouch! You owe me back surgery, Brocklehurst, and you'll also be paying for the retraction in the papers once they print the awful rumor you've started."

"What rumor?"

"The one you just planted into the mind of the Member of the Month of the Jr. Miss Gossip Committee."

* * *

By the time Hermione had gotten home, she was exhausted. She'd spent the rest of the afternoon trying to resist shoving the hanger from her new dress into Mandy's ears. Its effects might be an improvement on the current malfunction in Mandy's brain, or at least a temporary solution until she could cart her off to an institution.

Which was why she wasn't in the mood to deal with the thief who had entered her house and left it a complete mess. Muddy foot prints weaved across the floor, and crumbs covered her normally freakishly clean kitchen counter. Her hat rack had toppled over, and there was an unfamiliar coat on one of its pegs.

Stiffening to a fighting stance, she drew her wand and moved slowly, calculating her next move. Hermione came upon her living room, following the foot prints and the strange noises.

"You know, you should really put that spare key in a less obvious place."

"Aah!" Hermione shrieked, spinning around to face the person. Harry Potter stood before her, his green eyes dancing with mirth. "I could have cursed you, knocked you into next Thursday!"

"Well, I'd have waited there for you and accepted your apology when you caught up." He sated simply, settling on her couch as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What are you doing here, Harry?"

"It's Friday, and you didn't show."

"I was shopping. I forgot today was Friday, I've got to go to this party, you see, so I can't make it to dinner."

"Well then, you'll just have to take me with you!"

"B-but you just can't…I mean, I…you…You probably have something more interesting to do than hang around at the Library of Rare Books annual spring gala. And we'd have to open the dancing. You hate dancing."

"Nonsense! I'd love to go to a good old fashion LRB party. I'm just dying to chat with Biff about the latest volume to enter the collection. Mold, Mildew, and Fungi, wasn't it? Not to mention Angie wants to continue the discussion of the history of dust with me."

"Ha ha. We aren't _that_ boring, Harry! Besides, what about the dancing?" She was grasping at straws and he knew it.

"I've been taking lessons."

"Lessons? From who?"

"Hagrid of course! He and Madame Maxime sure know how to cut a rug."

"They're not a bit clunky?"

"Not at all. You'd think so, wouldn't you? It seems half giants are very light on their large feet." She waited for a beat, trying to think of another reason he couldn't come. She certainly didn't want to encourage this attraction she had for him, doing so might be disastrous, but she honestly couldn't come up with a single good reason for him not to go with.

"Fine," Hermione muttered sighing. "It's formal, muggle, and starts in an hour. Floo in and I'll take care of getting us there. I just know I'm going to regret this…"

"Au contraire, I'll make sure the history of dust discussion tonight is the most entertaining and un-regrettable one you've ever had."

"No stepping on my feet."

"I promise no damage will come to your size seven and a half tootsies." Harry smiled, and headed to the fireplace, leaving with a smirk stuck on his face that made her skin crawl. She was going to that dance tonight, and she was going with Harry Potter, against all her better judgment.

**A/N: **Hey everyone! What did you think of this chapter? I thought it was a bit slow going, but it's your opinion that matters. I do hope you enjoyed it in spite of the lack of good H/Hr moments, but we're still in the beginning of the story, so hang on!

Oh, and don't worry if you didn't get 'the code' Mandy and Hermione were using. She was asking for fashion help, and Mandy referred to casual as Levi (jeans), some what more dressy as Hilfiger (Tommy Hilfiger, sweaters and nice shirts and such) and fancy as Vera (Vera Wang makes wedding dresses, which I decided could still stand for formal because weddings are formal. And plus my designer clothes knowledge is quite near to nothing, so there. :-P)

**Special thanks to my Reviewers: **

**Hermione Ganer Potter: Yes, poor Harry! We'll see if we can't give him a better time of it next chapter ;-).**

**animeLCgrl: I'm glad to here you think it's exciting! Here's the next update.**

**danrad820: It was an oxymoron. Or, well, my attempt at one. I wrote it while up veeeery late, so it might be kinda hard to understand. Anyway, thanks for the review!**

**hollyg20: I was dying to hear it! Glad you think it was funny and I had you waiting for more :D.**

**Kiki Cabou: Rocks the heezy for sheezy? Don't ask…I'm a little of balanced- I don't even know what 'sheezy' means or if it exists. :-P. I take every thing you said about my story and thank you for it! I was thrilled by it, actually. And you found my favorite line from the story as well! I crack myself up…**

**fanjimmy: Happy to hear, here's the next chapter!**

**Jane and Adam: I'm baaaack! Yes, very amusing, I thought so anyway!**

**Sunny June 46: Well…Sarcastic flair! How about that! Hm…Sounds like a must-read. I'll check it out, and glad you enjoyed the not-so-friendly banter.**

**milky way bar: It's updated, as soon as I could for my favorite reviewers!**

**dizzylizzie: -Giggle- You sounded like a character from a TV show I watch in the last review, anyway, thanks for the in put!**

**RahNee: Well, I take those two thumbs up! Yes…Tom is quite yummy…Thanks for the review! I'll have to make sure I mention him in another chapter….**


	6. Terms of Endearment

**Disclaimer: Nope, I own nothing- I simply force the characters to do my bidding. -Insert evil laughter here-**

**A/N: **Hello all my beautiful reviewers! I feel witty, and fun after taking a HORRIBLE biology test- made by, I might add, a former college professor who seems to be forgetting that she's teaching my tenth grade honors biology, not my fourth year of college- and unleashing all I know about photosynthesis, cellular respiration, and biological pathways. So, update for you!

**Chapter Six: Terms of Endearment**

He was early. Why on _earth_ did he have to be early on the one historical day that she was running late? Hermione ran a frantic hand across the dresses in her closet, and yanked out the green one she'd bought from Opal earlier that day. The material's hem swept gracefully across the wood on the floor as she moved it to the bed.

"Hermione? Are you here?" Harry's voice came out uncertainly from the living room where he had just flooed in.

"Yeah! I'm just…oaf!...I'm just running a little late." She called back, nearly tripping over the fuzzy pink bathrobe she was wearing.

Hermione quickly tore off the robe and let her hair out of the towel it'd been wrapped turban-style in, and simply tossed the damp items across the room. It was a very un-Hermione like thing to do, but she was running low on time. Moving fast, the brunette hobbled into the long garment and set off to find her shoes while zippering up the back at the same time.

"Well! I'm afraid they'll be taking down the plaque in the trophy case. No sir, no more poor students will have to spit-shine the name 'Hermione Granger, Princess of Promptness' ever again."

"Hardy har har. I'll have you know that it says Princess of _Punctuality_, you daft four-eyed fool." This time Hermione had to shout over her shoulder, as she continued to struggle with the stubborn zipper. Opal designed a lovely dress, but she seriously needed to get a new zipper-supplier, because the current one sucked. A lot.

"Ooh, so we're starting with the name calling again?" Harry's voice was sounding dangerously close to her bedroom. "I do love terms of endearment, darling, but yours are just too special for me to call you something too ordinary back. I'll have to put some thought into it, of course, but I'm sure I'll think of something. How do you feel about 'pookie'?"

"I think it's a ghastly thing to call someone," She started.

"Perfect! _Pookie_. I like the sound of it- it suits you well!" He interrupted her, entering her bedroom much to her chagrin.

She turned around, one fist containing a black stiletto heal on her hip, the other wrapped around a hairbrush. Hermione pointed the hairbrush at him and glared. "And, if you call me such I'll tie you up in ropes and disembody you slowly using nothing but a Spork. Now, out."

Harry refused to move, and leaned against her doorframe with an adorable smirk on his face. His green eyes sparkled in the low light from her bedside lamp, and looked rather like a kaleidoscope of emeralds and ivies behind the round glasses from childhood he hadn't gotten around to replacing. Hermione's heart thumped a few extra beats, and she felt the blood rush to her face.

Oh, goodness, she was getting redder than Mandy had been! 'Calm down, calm down!' She warned herself, pushing any thoughts of kissing that smirk away out of her mind. Hermione straightened a bit more, and pursed her lips, trying her best to appear unaffected by the exceptional gift he had for pulling off a tux. It fit him well, the tux. It was neatly pressed, no wrinkles. "Please leave."

"No, I think I'll stay for a bit."

"I said get out! Get out, get out, get out!" Her voice came out in a squeak at first, but she was screaming at him by the end of her tirade. She started squirming after realizing her zipper was still undone, making her feel very exposed.

"Look, as much as I love seeing you squirm, you'd be wriggling like a worm by the time dinner rolls around if you leave with your dress like that. And dancing? Ha! If during dinner you were a worm, by then you'll be a…a…woman with ants down her pants. You know, those women dance quite spastically- it's all those legs on the ants, you see- and I can't tango with someone who's spazzier than I am."

Hermione had to admit, she wasn't getting very far with the zipper, and already she was late for being early to the party. Why was it that it seemed he was always making the logical statements lately? She was the logical one. If he was the logic, then she was the…Quidditch? Certainly not! Then she was the…Hero- heroine (Oh, great, a homophonic word for heroin, another drug. Was fate trying to get her to be a druggie like her mother?) If not the first two, then she'd have to be the chick with the savior complex, and jump into spontaneous and dangerous situations to suspiciously save everyone while still managing to look good. That last part would be the hardest to manage, what with her mass of bushy hair.

Either way she'd rather stick to her books and let Harry duke it out with the forces of evil, and to do that, Hermione would have to start being logical again, and following Harry's advice was the most logical thing to do at that very moment. Plus, she was tired of holding up the front of her dress anyway.

Harry moved toward her, and she turned so her back faced him. He brushed her wet hair over her shoulder with his fingertips, touching the smooth skin of her back. It was quite soft, and warm to the touch. Goosebumps appeared on her skin over the path his touch followed. She held back a shiver as he slowly traced patterns down her back, pausing after he'd reached the zipper.

The noise generated from the closing of the dress finally brought a shaken Hermione out of her small trance. What the hell was _that_ about? It had seemed as if an hour had passed from the time he'd stepped over to her until the actual zipping of the zipper.

"Well, I suppose you'd better to something about the hair, and then we can finally get to the party!" Harry said briskly rubbing his hands together, trying to erase the memory of the feel of her skin beneath his fingers.

She tugged on one tendril, and slumped on the bed for a moment. Curls or straight? Up or down? Curls. Up. After finally deciding, Hermione stood up and crossed to her bathroom, searching the cabinets for the usual magical and sometimes muggle products. She preformed a drying spell, and applied some Curly Q's Quick Curling Crème onto her hair, piling it up on the top of her head and pinning it. She left a few wispy curls to hang around her face, putting on the lightest of make up, finally ready to leave.

"I'm ready!" She announced.

For a moment, he stared at her. She began to feel uneasy as his eyes trailed up and down and back again. Harry had a stunned look on his face at the end result, but his face contorted into that same lazy smirk he'd seemed to wear so often lately. "Well, I was beginning to think you'd make me wait so long that I'd fall asleep. Like, Rip Van Winkle sleep."

"Yes, we've established it took me long but in my defense you were the one who showed up early." Hermione said while grabbing her keys and leading him out of the house. They moved out through her apartment and into the hallway. She waved at Puff, old Mrs. Sheens' smoky-eyed cat who laid his fat self on the stairwell for hours at a time before shutting the main door behind her.

"History of Magic sleep." Harry replied easily, waiting by her blue V.W. bug in the dimly lit parking lot. She laughed at him, and unlocked the car.

"Ron-sleep." Hermione joked back as she started the engine and began to drive toward the LRB party.

"I don't think anyone could ever live up to Ron-sleep. Have you heard him snore? It sounds like an earthquake- I swear he shook the walls once!"

* * *

By the time they'd reached the Sparkle Ballroom, where the Library of Rare Books always hosted its parties, it was just exactly five on the dot. Hermione handed her coat to one of the staff members, smiling in a kind manner. Sparkle was one of the highest ranking ballrooms in all of England, and the LRB had to have the best.

Soft strains of music rang through the entryway and reached her ears. Sparkle threw wonderful parties, and the LRB always made use of the many sized and styled rooms for one of their annual 'games'. The whole place smelled of spice and apples, warm yellow colored wallpaper covering the walls of the foyer particularly.

"Pleasant enough." Harry observed, walking up next to her with a smile. He placed an arm around her, and led her to the room which one of the staff members had pointed to. A guard was there, tall and wearing a microphone and earpiece. The double-doors behind him were labeled 'Sky Room' and two small circular windows allowed them to see inside. It was crowded already.

"Hello." Hermione said simply, offering the guard her invitation.

"Miss Hermione Jane Granger and One Companion?" He echoed the card, and looked up at her.

"I'm Hermione."

"And I'm a companion. There's one of me, I think, but maybe you should check. My alter ego, Harry McHero does sneak up from time to time." Harry said leaning forward a bit. The guard wasn't amused. He glared down at Harry while searching for Hermione's name on the checklist to mark her presence.

Taking the time to yell at Harry for his comment, she hissed at him. "Shut it, insufferable prat!"

"Aw, only if you give us a kiss, pookie."

"Bite me!"

"Gladly." And with that said, Harry snatched up her hand and bit her little finger. Before Hermione could blow up at him again, the guard opened the doors to allow them entrance to the room. "You're lucky. I'm just going to accumulate. Then, when you least expect it- BAM! Like a ticking time bomb." She growled out of the corner of her forced smiling mouth.

The crowd had apparently noticed her entrance and was now all parting for her. "Merlin, were you Noah in a former life or something?" Harry asked amazed at the way she commanded attention.

"No- and it was Moses who parted the sea, Noah had the arc with the animals." She whispered while taking in her surroundings.

The Sky Room was possibly Sparkle's best, and Hermione's favorite by far. It had a ceiling that reached the clouds, and was made of all glass save for the floor and one wall. Chandeliers made of sparkling crystal and elaborate glass hung down to shed shining light hued with the palest of blue on the heads of the many guests. The room was huge, and the floor made of delicately placed mosaic tiles, tiny squares no bigger than the nail on her big toe weaved patterns across the ground. Beneath the small round glass tables the blue, green, maroon, and gold tiles formed scenes of flowers or animals. The only wall that wasn't made of thick glass was painted with a mural of a lush, hilly countryside.

"This place- It's…I can't even describe it." Harry said while looking skyward.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "Even if it is muggle, the Sky Room always reminds me there's a little magic in everything." They were fast approaching a high pedestal where the only rectangular table stood, covered in a gold gossamer fabric. It was the head table, where the Chairs sat and dined.

"Hermione! I'm thrilled you made it! You'll need to make the speech in just a moment, I'll announce it now." Laurel Leigh McBride leaned over the glittering plate in front of her, and hugged Hermione gently, her silver hair falling out of a stylishly messy bun.

Speech? Speech! Hermione had forgotten about the opening speech in all the hilarity of Mandy the Lobster and the dress, and then there was Harry…But in all of her life, she'd never been any less prepared for something. Okay, so there was that whole thing where her first _visit_ came halfway through a double potions class in third year, but that could hardly count, she couldn't have know _that_ was coming, but she'd known, she'd known about the speech and the dancing, and totally forgot!

Noticing the panicked way Hermione had started to pace the floor and slight hyperventilation that was taking place, Harry placed a placating hand on his best friend's shoulder. She paused her pacing and stared at him with wide doe eyes. Doe caught in the headlights eyes, but adorably doe-y nevertheless.

"You'll be fine!"

"No I won't- I haven't got a speech to give! I'll look like a fool, and I'll let Laurel down,"

"Hermione,"

"And I'll have to quit out of embarrassment, and of course then I'll just have to dig a hole to China and escape the terrible shame."

"Herms,"

"Maybe I'll even need to change my name, to keep the family honor, and then-"

"HERMIONE!"

Finally catching her attention and stopping the annoyingly cute rambling thing she did, Harry grabbed both her shoulders firmly and locked eyes with her. "Listen to me, Hermione Granger. You're the smartest, most intelligent, wittiest," 'And prettiest' He added mentally, "Woman I know! If you can't go up there and make a speech that sounds absolutely brilliant, I'll change my name to Voldie and run around taking candy from babies."

Hermione laughed at that, a sweet sound that continued to ring throughout his ears. He moved his hand to cup her face, and brushed his thumb over it. His head was leaning down towards hers on its own accord, and Hermione swallowed thickly as it neared hers.

"Hermione, you're all set!" Laurel said in a smiling voice.

It forced Harry to twitch backward quickly, and he smiled uneasily at her, pushing her toward the front of the pedestal where someone had set up a microphone. Attempting to shake the thought of what had nearly happened, she prepared to make the speech.

"Hello, and welcome to the annual Library of Rare Books spring gala!" Applause. And sweat, there was lots and lots of sweat on her part, anyway. "My name is Hermione Granger, and I'm very proud to call my self a donator and member of the Library of Rare Books and the society affiliated. I was asked tonight to do two things. One of which is starting the dancing, which will begin after this word from one of our sponsors." Laughter. She was relaxing now, more confidence and less sweat. "The other is making this speech, a speech about the importance of the rare tomes and volumes we've stored and protected in our humble walls since the creation of the LRB. I can give you titles, stories, I can recite passages from Shakespeare and orally present my analysis of the character of Scout Finch. Who of us bookworms can't?" Her voice was getting stronger, she could see Harry offering thumbs up out of the corner of her eye. "But how many of us can recite Egyptian scrolls by memory? Can anyone out there give me the title of the only book written by Stanton Yelnats? The answer is no. Why? Because these are some of the rarest books known. They must be protected. For our generation, and for future generations to have the knowledge these countless authors wanted to instill in us, we must carry on our work."

Applause erupted from the party goers, but the loudest of all came from behind her, where Harry had been standing in the shadows. She turned to him and offered a large smile, rushing to embrace him in a tight hug. Hermione had done it!

"I can't believe that just happened! I thought for sure I was a goner. If it weren't for the pep talk you gave me…"

"Yes, I must say I played a great role in that particular ordeal." Harry puffed out his chest proudly. "And I was right! If it weren't for me and my pep, we'd be holding your wake right now, poor Hermione, death by embarrassment!"

"Well, we can't all be killed off by brave and heroic teenagers." Hermione smiled at him, and gestured to the floor, which had been cleared out for dancing in the few moments after her speech was given. It was time to start the spazzing.

"Well, shall we?"

"We shall." Hermione affirmed, taking the arm Harry offered. They moved quickly to the floor, Hermione's steps fast under the ivy green dress, Harry's slow but wide and secure. The sound of the music beginning was drowned out by the thundering of Hermione's own heart as she took her place to begin the dancing.

Spazzing was the correct word. She was jumpier than an eleven-year-old Neville Longbottom in potions class. Why, oh why couldn't she have just asked Malfoy? Oh, sure he'd have been an ass, but at least he wouldn't make her this nervous. Catty perhaps, but not so much nervous. Instead, Harry was there looking as handsome and level-headed dancing with her as she looked nervous and off-balance. It hadn't even been but three minutes and she was on the verge of falling to the floor. Talk about Jello-legs. Her mother's apple martini probably had more solidity than her legs right about now, and her knees shook like an Eskimo's in the artic, sans heavy fur-hooded coat.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, general concern reflected in his eyes. She smiled nervously and nodded, looking away as they continued to sway across the room. Other couples had joined them, she observed, but Harry had no intention of letting her go free.

"I'm fine…Just, you know, a bit tired." Hermione muttered meekly. She wanted to go home. She wanted to crawl under the covers and hide from whatever it was that seemed to want to wreck her relationship with her best friend. That _something_ had seen her there, a generally happy, settled girl who didn't like change much, and thought to itself, 'Hey, here's a girl who's comfortable. Let's mess things up for her!'

"Alright, maybe we should leave…?"

"Yeah, I-I think that would be best." She answered, letting him lead her toward the door. Hermione waved to various members, nameless, faceless people in a crowd. Why was she so shaken up about this? It was only a little attraction, nothing big. But the little voice in the back of her head begged to differ. It was the same voice that warned her about the drinking on New Years, the same voice that told her not to touch the ugly green thing Helen had cooked for dinner last Tuesday…

But, as she'd always done, Hermione ignored it and let Harry take her home, where she'd swallowed an aspirin and lay down in bed, staring up at the white ceiling. Near sleep, she yawned and let her mind wander. A picture was projected onto the blank space above her, a picture of a handsome man in a tux, smirking down at her as if he knew something she didn't. She hated that damn smirk.

**A/N: Weird place to end it, I know, but I'm tired. And I've been working on this forever, it seems. Oh well. I haven't got anything better to do at one a.m. on a Friday. I've got break from now until Monday, so if you show me the reviews, I'll show you what happens next in the story! Oh, and for any of you who're reading my other HP HHr fic, I'll try desperately hard to get that updated as well. Hope you liked this one!**

**Special Thanks to my Special Reviewers (Who rock, by the way ;-)):**

**Hermione Graner Potter: Aw! Thank you! How sweet! Thanks for the review and the late b-day present, here's my next chapter, you can think of it as your own late present as well ;-).**

**Jane and Adam: Yes, I do hope this proved interesting enough for you! It was interesting to write...**

**AJ the Ass Slayer: Ooh, I rule? Really? Cool! I'm glad you think highly of my story. I think you're username rules too :-P.**

**WriterLady1031: I've never had a story called a 'great read' and I adore making people laugh. I'm thrilled you were not only laughing, but hysterically so!**

**Danrad820: Glad to hear you enjoy it! And I'm tentatively going to say marriage, in the epilogue, and I'm very much considering a sequel with children/pregnancy. I hope you liked this chapter as much as the last!**

**Milky way bar: Funny again? Updated soon enough? Thanks for the review :-).**

**Cristineb1: Of course he went with her! I do hope you liked this one, and it didn't disappoint!**

**Bunnyrabbit228: Well, I'm a light and refreshing person- possibly as light and refreshing as water! Or not… Anyway, yes, I know what you mean. Many are heavy drama low humor, and I'm dead set on creating more humor for those who ask ;-).**

**Sunny June 46: I love puns and lame jokes. I was cracking up when I wrote them, and yes, I am aware how looser-like I sounded just then. Hm…Well, sometimes I wear my clothes backwards, so I'm not so golden on the occasion. But, generally I match well enough, so I'm not as big of a fashion-dummy as I thought, I suppose….**

**Hollyg20: Oh, I always love to hear others' two cents! Maybe even five cents worth, or, if I'm in a good mood or the occasion calls for it, a whole quarter's worth! Here's the 'library ball thingie' and I hope I didn't let you down terribly on the HHr aspect! Thanks for the two cents, and the kind words!**


	7. A Deal with the Devil

**Disclaimer: Nope, still a poor girl who doesn't own anything.**

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys. I'm busy lately, so this update has taken a while to write. The first half of this was written in study hall, so be gentle when reviewing.**

**Chapter Seven: A Deal with the Devil**

Hermione regretted ever picking up the phone on that sunny May morning. That day had started out wonderfully, and having the day off meant none of the usual pressure and stress from work. She'd risen, not bothering to dress or make the bed, and promptly began to plan her day of freedom.

Should she take a walk? Go shopping? Hop a plane to Paris and eat all the cheese she could without throwing it all up?

Nah. A movie marathon was just the thing. With a plate of Pop Tarts and a stack of DVDs Hermione was ready. But unfortunately before she even got to push play and start the morning with the comic styling of Monty Python, the phone rang. Not, as one would expect the usual telephone, but her pale pink flip phone.

It was playing _that_ ringtone. The one Hermione had specifically reserved for **him. **With a heavy sigh she opened the phone and answered. Apparently her day of freedom would have to wait- she hoped the conversation following would at least be semi-important. Like he was in an accident. Or needed advice. Or, you know, was calling to tell her she'd won the Best Friend of the Year award. That last one was the least likely, seeing as she was a terrible friend right now, what with being in denial and all.

"Hello, Harry." She stated.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"I've got ESP."

"Really? But you always said that was a load of bull."

"It is. Pardon my temporary burst of sarcasm." Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes. "I have caller I.D. on my phone."

"Oh really? So, no ESP?"

"No."

"Have you at least got some psychic in you?"

"No."

"Any seer-vision type of thing going on?"

"No!"

"ESPN?"

"No- I mean yes. But what has that got to do with anything?"

"Nothing, just if you didn't this conversation would have been irrelevant."

"As it stands from my point of view it is."

"But I have a point!" He exclaimed. "I promise…Here it is: I set my house on fire."

"You did what!"

"Set-my-house-on-fire. You know, fire. That hot, yellow-orangey stuff that tends to leave massive amounts of smoke and ash in its wake?"

"Ah yes. Now I remember. Seeing as fire and I have been re-introduced, care to, oh, say for kicks, **_explain_**?"

"Not particularly, no. But I might be convinced to in person."

"Why only in person?"

"Because, I rather fancied seeing your pretty face first." He said. Hermione could just see the smirk on his face.

"Well, I don't know if right now is really the best-"

A pair of hands grabbed onto either side of her waist tightly, and spun her around. Hermione jumped and screamed loudly. She swung her right fist hitting an eye and thrust her left palm into the interloper's nose. His very _familiar_ looking nose. She stepped back after recognizing him, and covered her face with her hands.

"Oh dear…Harry, I'm so-"

Harry held up one of his hands, and extended a finger, stopping her from speaking. "You broke my dose!"

"Well, damn it Harry, you can't just pop in and sneak up on me like that! You need to wear a bell. Or get one of those trumpet guys that announces the arrival of royalty or something. Maybe even as far as a huge neon sign." Hermione rambled while tending to his nose and eye. She whipped out her wand and moved it in a complicated pattern, before covering his eye with a cool green healing ointment. "The nose is back to normal, if not a bit sore, but all I can do for a bruised eye is bring down the sensitivity and swelling."

"I'm glad I chose a healer for a friend."

"As if. You didn't choose me; I made up my mind first year. You were stuck with me and will remain so. Until, you know, I get sick of you or something." Hermione said, busily preparing tea. "Beginning before, I might add, I decided to be a healer."

"Anyway, let's get back to me and my story."

"Well, it seems that bruise hasn't reached your ego. I could say more, but I'll let you go since I'm dying to know how you got yourself into this mess."

"Good to see I've got you on the edge of your seat. I should be in movies, what with this on-edge affect I have on people."

"I'm sure thousands of members of your fan club would line up to stare at your face on the big screen in a dark room for a few hours." Hermione said, while stirring some cream into her cup. 'And I'd be first in line. Well, no, maybe I'd have to rock-paper-scissors against Colin for that spot…'

"I'm sure they would. But, back on topic. So, like I said, I set my house on fire."

"How?"

"Well, you see, I haven't cooked in a long time. You remember I told you I used to for my Aunt and Uncle, right?" Hermione nodded. "Anyway, I decided I would see if I was still good at it. So, you know, I just sort of made some pasta."

"And you burnt it?"

"No."

"Did you leave the stove on?"

"No."

"Did you, like, leave an oven mitt on the burner or something?"

"No. I plugged in the lamp and the outlet sparked up."

"What did that have to do with cooking?"

"I dunno it just seemed like a good place to start."

"You are the most frustrating person alive, do you know that?" She said, laughing a little.

Harry leaned back and folded his arms over his head. "I try."

"Anyway, what has this whole thing got to do with me?"

"I have a proposition to make."

"No. No freaking way!" Hermione exclaimed, standing up and walking away from the table. There was no way in hell she was going to let him live with her. Doing so might just dig her deeper into this mess of hers, and she had promised herself that she wouldn't let this go any farther than it already had. She loved the trio, their friendship and all the memories they had shared, and there was no way she would give in and let something damage it.

"What? I didn't even ask!"

"You don't have to. The answer is still no."

"But how can you be sure what you think I'm going to ask is what I KNOW I'm going to ask unless you ask me?"

"I know what you know you're going to ask me without asking you because I've got deductive skills. The Weasley's are out of town, strike one. Seamus and Mandy's house…well, I doubt you'd be brave enough to stick around after dark, strange noises come out of that bedroom, strike two. And, strike three in favor of my reasoning is that you're here, telling me your story, and not at the Leaky Cauldron looking for a room."

Harry cupped his hands over his mouth and made a hissing noise. "And she hit's it outta the park, folks, another homerun for the Granger Eggheads!"

"You're not helping to sway my opinion by calling me an egghead." Hermione observed, clearing the empty teacups away. Well, her day of freedom had fast turned into a day of imprisonment. She was stuck in a room with Harry, who was busily pleading for her to allow him to stay. Wonderful.

"Please? Please, please, please?"

"No."

"C'mon, Hermione…I'll give you my signed chocolate frog collection!"

"You started getting them signed last week. The only signatures you've got are you own, mine, and Ron's."

"So, what, that's a yes?"

"No!"

"Maybe?"

"No."

"Fine, I'll only stay one night."

"I'll see that, and raise you house hunting."

"One night, house hunting and a room at the Leaky Cauldron if we find nothing today."

"Deal." She shook his hand, sealing her own fate. Where could she possibly put him? Her couch wasn't the nicest place to sleep, and it was a one room flat. Oh, Merlin, she'd just gone and made a deal with the devil. An admittedly sexy devil, but, nevertheless things didn't appear to be going in her favor.

**A/N: Admittedly not my best work. Mostly dialogue, but you guys don't mind, do you? I hope not. Because that's what you got. Anyway, I'm going to be attempting to get my other HHr fic updated sometime today as well, so keep an eye out! As always, it's nice to know what you guys thought of this one, so shoot me a review and let me know!**

**A/N 2, The Sequel: For those wondering about how all this ties into the story summary, don't worry, I'm building up. The story makes time jumps it seems, in months, but we've got twelve to get to January from where I started in the story. Please understand, and keep right on reading and reviewing!**

**Review responses:**

**Jane and Adam: Well, here I am. Not so fast, but I'm here. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**AJ the Ass Slayer: Well, with so many 'pleases' in your last review, I had to update! Did you find the funny factor as satisfying as last chapter?**

**Oro4: You're welcome for writing! No problem about the reviews, it's cool. No, Harry and Cho are not an official couple, they're more like….casually dating? They might go out on one or two dates but its not serious, so don't worry. Nothing will stand in the way of HHr! Okay, that's a lie, because I wouldn't have a story then, would I?**

**Gwyneth: Ah, you flatter me. That story does seem a little…Well; we'll just leave it at that and say mine is really good. :D Anyway, thanks again for the great review, I hope as the story progresses you still feel the same way about it!**

**EmotionlessNightmare: Here's the continuation, hope you like it!**

**Kiki Cabou: Thanks! I do try to keep my Harry funny. I also generally try to respond individually to reviews, like you said; it's something nice that helps make the reviewers feel special. And, you know, if they happen to be motivated by the special mention to review again, so be it…. :P.**

**HARRYHERMIONESHIPPERduh: Interesting name you've got there…:). Anyway, here's the update to my 'cool' story.**

**Hollyg20: Wow! I don't think anyone has actually told me I write them well. Just funny and cute. Which I love to hear anyway, but… Thanks again for sending in a review and letting me know what you thought of it!**

**Danrad820: Well, I'll see what I can do about a sequel or something. But first I'll just try to get through this fic first ;). Anywho, thanks for the review, I hope you liked this chapter as well!**

**Mystery: I'm thrilled you think mine is one of the good HHr fics! Here's the update, sorry I couldn't get it out sooner!**

**Weirdsister23: This story is under the HHr section, so of course in the end they will be together. Yes, I liked the dress too. After all, I was the one who thought it up! Anyway, for more information about the Harry/Cho situation, read my review response to Oro4's review. Thanks again for the input!**

**Milky way bar: This time wasn't as fast as last, but I hope you still liked it! Thanks for the review.**

**Jess HHr Fan: Yes, the sky room was just an idea that popped into my head. And Harry in a tux is just too good not to write! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter too.**

**Hermione Graner Potter: Well, I had a bit of a running joke for a while there with the junkies. Anyway, I can't wait to read the next chapter of your own fic! Thrilled you like mine as well.**

**Sunny June 46: Yes, such a gentleman. But, he should probably let Hermione figure this one out on her own. It might be more amusing to watch. Anyway, thanks for the review, here's the next installment!**


	8. War of the Stars

**Disclaimer: Nope, I own nothing.**

**A/N:** Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while since the last update, real life caught up with me. Anyway, I had a bit of trouble getting this chapter started, but I've done my best and hope it's up to par!

**Chapter Eight:War of the Stars**

Hermione Granger was not a patient woman. When subjected to a long period of waiting, she began to become frustrated. At the end of a fruitless search for an apartment for her ex-best friend (whom she had taken to referring as The Bastard) she was at her boiling point, annoyed with his picky ways and exasperating comments. The young witch pulled into the apartment driveway and slammed on the breaks harshly, pulling into park and exiting in a fury.

"I can't believe you didn't like one of the _fifteen_ freaking apartments we looked at!"

Harry followed quickly, shutting his door and jogging to keep up with her. "Well, what do you expect? Half the apartments smelled like cats! Add a few heads of cabbage and bam! You've got eau de Mrs. Figg! I can't possibly live in a place that smells like an old woman's house, what do you suppose I'd do if I ever wanted to invite someone over, tape air fresheners under the chairs?"

She stopped abruptly, causing Harry to nearly ram into her. "Come on, not all of them smelled like cats! What about the one on Third Street?"

"The super was looking at me funny."

She fixed him with a pointed look. "Like, funny how?"

"Like, I've-got-a-shrine-dedicated-to-you-in-my-closet."

"That doesn't make sense, there's no such thing as a ten word plus one contraction long look."

"Yes, there is. See? You're giving me one now, that's the shut-up-or-I'm-going-to-break-your-nose-again look."

He was trying to make her feel guilty, reminding her about what she'd done earlier. It was working, not to mention giving her a head ache to boot. She needed an aspirin; luckily she always carried some in her purse. Blinking, Hermione glanced from empty hand to empty hand. Her purse was no where to be seen. She must have left it in the car. "Damn!"

"What's wrong?"

"I left my purse in the car. Use your wand to get in, I'll be right back." Hermione said, rushing back to the car.

Harry nodded, and did as Hermione had asked. It was nice to finally get back to her place, where it smelled… not like cats. After entering, he shrugged off his coat and switched on the kitchen lights. Moving on into the living room, he noticed someone had left on the television, which was displaying the home shopping network.

"Curious…" While he didn't doubt a large amount of people enjoyed that kind of thing, he knew for a fact if Hermione had left the television on at all, it would have been on the Discovery Channel, the History Channel, TLC- something boring, educational, and totally Hermione.

"Back awaaaaaay, thief!"

"Huh?" Harry questioned, whirling around. In front of him stood a tall brunette, with a cricket bat in hand- apparently familiar with the motion of swinging, for that was exactly what she was doing. Harry ducked away, and nearly knocked over Hermione's DVD collection. It wobbled, the woman shrieked and swung again, and he tripped over a fuzzy pink rug.

'Where did that come from?' He didn't remember any rug. His attacker lunged. There was time to contemplate the mysteries of Hermione's room décor later. "Look, whoever you are, if you put down the bat, I'm sure we can figure out what's going on her-"

"I got my purse, Harry, but we're not done talking about your insufferable persnickety behavior."

"Thank Merlin, Hermione, I'm being attacked! And…did you just say 'insufferable persnickety'?"

"What is it, stalker, thief, death eater?" She asked, rushing in and ignoring the last half of what he'd said. Her heart beat fast, worried. Hermione entered, wand at the ready, prepared for whatever it was. The display waiting for her in the living room, however, she couldn't have been prepared for in a million years.

Harry grabbed onto her leg. "Save me from the crazy lady!"

Her purse slipped off her shoulder and onto the floor. "Stephanie, put down the bat."

"But Hermione,"

"Steph, the bat." Her cousin obliged, handing it over. "Where'd you get this thing anyway?"

"It was in the hall closet."

"But I never play cricket!"

"I know! When I found it, I was totally-"

Harry cleared his throat, standing and brushing himself off. "As interesting as it is that Hermione has a cricket bat and a fuzzy pink rug I've never noticed, how about an explanation?"

"Oh, right. Harry, this is my cousin Stephanie Whitmore. Steph, this is my off-on best friend Harry."

"Off-on?"

"He's only my best friend when he's not being The Bastard. Like now." Hermione stated as-a-matter-of-factly. "So what are you doing here anyway?" She asked, moving back into the kitchen to get some drinks.

"Well, since I was doing a show on Wednesday, I thought we could make up for the lost time with a good old fashioned movie marathon!" Stephanie said cheerfully, holding up a plastic bag weighted down with DVDs and VHS tapes.

Just like the one Hermione had been about to start this morning, before Harry had announced his dilemma with the house. "That sounds great Steph- that is, if you're up to it too, Harry. Hm… Butterbeers all around?"

"Sure, sounds great."

"Um… Actually, I'd rather have just, like, some diet cola or something."

Hermione winced as she recalled Stephanie wasn't quite familiar with the wizarding culture. She obliged, however, and grabbed two bottles and a can of diet for them all. She re-entered the living room to find Harry thumbing through her copy of _Witch Weekly_ and Stephanie extracting an array of movies from her bag.

"So, what are the selections for tonight?"

"Well, I've narrowed our choices down to, of course, seasons one through three of Smallville, The Princess Bride, Pretty in Pink, How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, Sweet Home Alabama, and the Star Wars collection."

Hermione's ears automatically twitched upwards at the last mention. "Must you even ask? Do you not know me at all?" She asked incredulously, settling on the couch next to the snacks Steph had apparently set out before hand.

"Right. Star Wars it is." Stephanie said, stacking the others and pulling out the correct set.

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you some kind of fan or something?" Harry asked, putting the magazine down.

Stephanie nearly dropped _Episode IV_ at his questions. "You must be joking. She's got the collectable figurines! She's a huge, dorky, I-hear-Star-Wars fan."

"I'm not that bad!"

"You have a lightsaber in you're hall closet."

"So! So! At least I'm not a Trekkie."

"Who is?" Steph asked amusement in her voice.

"Oh, oh, he is!" Hermione retorted, jumping up and pointing at Harry.

"Am not!"

"You are too, I totally caught you yelling 'Beam me up, Scotty' one time before you apparated home after a night at the Broken Broomstick."

"You are such a liar."

Hermione smirked. She loved this. He was obviously embarrassed, a cute blush crawling over his face. "Nope, it's true. I remember it, because Mandy and I were laughing so hard that Ron thought he'd have to call St. Mungos to take us to the psych ward."

Harry sunk down, attempting to hide from the world in the folds of Hermione's squashy white couch. "Quiet, the movie's starting." He muttered, pointing at the 'coming soon' opening credits.

"You're just mad because you know Star Wars is better."

"Is not!

"Is too!"

"Star Trek would kick Star Wars' ass in a competition."

"Not! Star Wars has lightsabers, a galactic republic, _and_ Hayden Christensen. Well, the two of the prequel trilogy do, anyway…But still, it would totally win."

"Keep on looking at the world through those blinders, doll, but when you're ready you can open them up and let the real world shine in."

"I broke your nose once and I'll do it again! Star Wars wins. End of discussion." The credits stopped, and the movie's scrolling text began to appear. Harry rolled his eyes but accepted Hermione's comment. He didn't particularly fancy a broken nose twice in one day.

Hermione and Stephanie eagerly turned their attention to the beginning, rattling off by memory. "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…"

* * *

"Who's that?"

"That's Anakin Skywalker."

"And…who is he? Where's Darth Vader? Why aren't Luke and Leia around anymore, did they die or something?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. For as much as she liked Harry- as a friend of course- and as adorable he was when he, well, when he did anything, really, he was a sucky movie watcher. "Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader- but not yet. Luke and Leia aren't in this one because as of yet they are negative something-or-other years old."

"Were you not watching the first forty minutes of this one?" Stephanie asked, throwing a pillow at him.

"Yes, I was just testing you and Master Obi-Wan over there." He stated, tossing it back easily.

"I'm the Master, I'm supposed to do the testing- you'll never make it to the Trials, young padawan." Hermione said, clucking her tongue.

"On second thought, you can't be Obi-Wan. You haven't mastered the force enough yet."

"Oh really? So who am I then?"

"Leia, the strong-willed rebellion leader."

"So I suppose then that you're Luke, right? The Chosen One who has to kill his father to restore peace to the galaxy?"

"Of course not! Riddle wasn't my father."

"Then you're Han Solo, right?" Stephanie asked, handing a box of Milk Duds to Hermione.

"Naturally."

"Because of your arrogance and terrible attitude?"

"No, because I've got a friend who can talk like a Wookie."

"You know," Stephanie started, her eyes glued to the television. "Han and Leia end up together."

Harry wriggled his eyebrows suggestively at Hermione, who blushed instantaneously. Gee, thanks Steph. She mentally knocked her cousin off the Christmas list before throwing a fistful of Milk Duds at Harry's head.

"Hey! What's with the chocolate downpour?" Hermione laughed and threw some more, enjoying his annoyance. "Stop it!"

"Aw, don't you know Harry? That's what little children do to let someone know they like you. Next thing you know she'll be tugging on your pigtails at recess."

"If that's a roundabout way of telling me I'm a child, Steph, then…" Hermione stuck her tongue out at her. "I'm telling on you."

* * *

A few hours and the completion of two more Star Wars flicks, Harry sat with his eyes red and wide, staring at the end credits. That was it? He needed to know how Anakin became Darth. Both Hermione and Stephanie were sleeping, sprawled out across the couch and on each other, their legs and arms were twisted at interesting angles. Hermione's foot was next to Stephanie's face, and Stephanie's elbow was positioned between the couch cushions.

He began searching through the bag for the next one, only to find disappointedly that there wasn't another. With a sigh, he took a minute to look around. The place was silent, minus the hum of the refrigerator. It was cool, a fan blowing in the corner of the room. A modest flat that smelled like flowers, Harry had decided he liked it here.

Harry had found out a few things tonight. Like that Hermione owned not only a cricket bat and a fuzzy pink rug, but a lightsaber additionally. There was the Star Wars thing, and of course, the fact that she enjoyed throwing food. Milk Duds at him, popcorn at the television during parts she didn't particularly like, and he noticed she tossed a few Swedish Fish at Stephanie the first of the three times her visiting cousin had fallen asleep. He squinted. Stephanie actually still had one stuck halfway up her nose.

While contemplating, he busied himself with turning out all the lights and the television, stacking the DVDs into their bag before covering both women with a nearby blanket. He curled up on the armchair, deciding he'd make it a point to visit more often.

**A/N: **What'd you think? It was mainly fun, light, a bit of quirky-ness from our favorite couple. Anyway, I hope you liked it, but for me to be able to tell, you'll have to give me a review! And don't worry; I have plans for next chapter, so it'll actually have a point to it! Yay! Reviews fuel my updates….

**Special thanks to all who reviewed! But, as it's late I don't have time to mention you all this time, but review and I'll make it a point next time to give you a response.**


	9. Upstairs, Downstairs

**Disclaimer: Nope, I own nothing you recognize.**

**A/N: **I have had a terrible week. It's May Madness and Senioritis combined (and I'm not even a senior :P)! Not to mention finals, teeth being pulled, fruit fly breeding/taking care of, moving the entire school into the newly built high school, and crammed in projects/homework/tests. But it got a little better 'cause I lettered in academics, so I'm happy enough to give you a well-deserved update! Here goes…

**Chapter Nine: Upstairs, Downstairs**

"You owe me a room at the Leaky Cauldron." As Harry said this, he and Hermione were strolling down a street near her apartment, holding ice cream cones. They'd spent the morning house hunting again, but with no more luck than they'd had yesterday. Finally, after giving up, Hermione had taken Harry down to a local diner–slash-ice cream parlor for a bite to eat.

She took another lick of her chocolate chip cookie dough and replied. "Oh, I'm not done with you just yet. We'll find something."

"Grangers are certainly a determined bunch."

"Of course we are- it's in the handbook. It's the chapter after Careful decision making and before Early bird behavior."

"Hm…sounds like a best seller."

They'd reached the apartment now, in a comfortable silence while eating. Harry and she weren't the only two in the foyer of the house, however. The eccentric Mrs. Parks was treading down the stairs in all her glory. The fifty-something widow wore a tee shirt in a violent shade of green and some paint-splattered overalls. Her frizzy grey hair was crimped and streaked with green stripes to match her clothes.

"Good evening Polyxena." Hermione called in greeting.

"Hey hunny! And don't call me by that ghastly thing. It's Polly."

"Polly- right…So where are you headed?"

"Just down to the art store. I need some new brushes. And where might you be going with such a good looking man? Off to do something naughty I hope." Polly said wriggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Polly!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes widening and a blush creeping up her face. What was it with people getting the wrong idea about the two of them? Did she have, like, a sign above her head in big flashing lights that said **'IN LOVE WITH BEST FRIEND!'** or something? "Polly this is Harry, my **friend**." She said the last word forcibly; making sure things were cleared up.

While she was freaking out and turning redder than a Weasley's hair, next to her Harry was playing it cool by looking at anything but her and humming the theme of Gilligan's Island. "A three hour tour, a three hour tour…" Polly chimed in. "Now let's do The Brady Bunch! Here's the story,"

"I don't really think…" Harry started.

"Uh…No thanks, Polly, I've got a terrible singing voice. We're really just-"

"Nonsense! Everyone can sing- it's just like talking. Only with notes, and tones, and you have to move your voice up and down."

Having nothing more to say, and still red from embarrassment at Polly's earlier comment, she allowed herself to be conducted by Polly in a mutilated version of the theme song. Her voice cracked, squeaked, and quavered all at the same time. Puff, the fluff-ball excuse of a cat began yowling along with her from his usual place on the stairwell.

"Well," Polly said, sticking a finger in her ear, "You certainly proved me wrong."

"Now that I've topped off my most embarrassing moments list, I think I'm going to just steal Harry away from this little chorus you've got going and we can find him a house so I can reflect on this humiliating end to a formerly perfectly pleasant day." Hermione said, grabbing Harry's forearm and pulling him toward her apartment door.

"W-wait, wait! Did you say he was looking for a place to live?"

Hermione paused, interested enough to forget her embarrassment for a moment. "Yeah…"

"You don't suppose he'd be interested in Peter Gianini's old apartment…"

No. No, no, no, no, no! This wasn't happening. Fate wasn't this cruel. Oh, wait, yes it was. And it happened to hate her with a passion. Friendly Pete Gianini, the sweet old man who played checkers at the park and donated money regularly to fund AIDS research had moved three months ago to be closer to his family. Friendly Pete Gianini, the sweet old man who had lived in the apartment above hers.

Harry, hot, funny, person-she-had-a-thing-for Harry, would then live above her. 'Fate, if you can hear me, YOU SUCK! IT'S WAR NOW, BITCH!'

"Of course I'd be! Where is it?" Harry interjected, not waiting for Hermione's response.

"No! I-I mean, no, I really don't think that's a very good idea. It's been empty so long, and well, Pete was a nice guy, but he kind of...kind of…he…there were…" She attempted to dissuade them. "Cats! And Harry doesn't like the smell of cats."

Polly raised an eyebrow. "Pete didn't have any cats, he had fish."

"See, now that's different. I can respect a man who had fish." Harry said nodding. "So where is this place?"

"B-but I…"

"It's this way." Polly said, moving to the stairs. Both ignoring her, they headed to apartment 2B, the second floor counterpart to her first floor flat, 1B. She stood there for about five minutes, just wondering what she could do. She snapped out of her trance, and Hermione rushed forward, taking the stairs two by two.

"Bloody fate. I hate fate. Fate should get a life and leave mine alone. 'Course it wouldn't be fate anymore. It'd have to change its name to Stays-outta-other-peoples-business Smith, or Jones maybe." She muttered as she caught up.

"…That's the bathroom, and there ends the tour! What d'ya think?"

"I think it's perfect, great space." Harry told Polly, nodding his head. Noticing Hermione in the door, rambling to herself, Harry smiled brightly and for a moment, she forgot her anger and smiled back dreamily. "Isn't this fantastic, Herms? It'll be just like in Hogwarts!" He exclaimed, walking over and pulling her against his side in a hug.

She gave a forced smile and said with uncertain happiness, "Yeah…Just like Hogwarts." Only, you know, without the classes, evil forces attempting to kill them all and take over the world, Ron, and the whole she was highly attracted to him deal. That was new.

* * *

"Moving day, moving day, I love moving day, goooooo moving day!"

"Mandy, put down the pompoms and start unpacking the dishware." Harry called across the room where he, Ron and Seamus were all arranging the furniture. Some of his thingsthey'd salvaged and repaired from the fire, and others were new.

"Where'd you get these things anyway? I found them in one of your boxes. Have you been hiding something from the rest of us, Harry?" She asked, joining Luna in stacking dishes in the top cabinets.

"Mandy Glitterbud Brocklehurst!" Hermione exclaimed, outraged.

Mandy, surprised at the outburst, dropped the heavy dishes, and the stack shattered, scattering shards all across the tiled kitchen floor. "Um…The dishes are away." She said, using her wand to levitate them into the trash bin.

"Glitterbud?" Ron said snickering, using his own wand to move a heavy armchair into place.

"Shut up! My family has an ancestry with fairies. How on earth a three inch glowing ball of glitter and sunshine banged a five-foot-whatever wizard to create my family history is beyond me, but Glitterbud isn't as bad as it could be. I've got a sister called Sugarsheen Twinkletoes Brocklehurst. But of course, we just refer to her as Sugar."

"I have a cousin called Jupiter Phoebus." Luna announced.

"Somehow Sugarsheen seems a lot less odd when you compare it to Jupiter Phoebus Lovegood." Seamus said, shaking his head.

"Actually, his mother is my father's sister, and she married a man called Dougal Oddgonson. So, my cousin is Jupiter Phoebus Lovegood-Oddgonson."

"Merlin! And I thought I had it bad." Hermione murmured. "How on earth did he learn how to spell it?"

"Maybe the fairy was a mutant and the wizard was a short person." Ron said, picking up on the previous conversation.

Mandy replied quickly. "Lovely, Ron. Not only have you managed to completely ignore everything your girlfriend and best friend just said while contemplating my relatives, it's simply wonderful how you reduce my centuries-long heritage to a short dude and a large glowing mutatant freak with wings."

The room erupted in laughter, amused at the banter. Hermione really did miss this. Maybe she could get Harry to use all of those galleons of his to pay off the other tenants and they could all live there. Then everyday would be a laugh, with one comedic anecdote after another. Just like Hogwarts again. Or _Friends_, without the live audience.

A few more hours of unpacking, and they had all passed out on chairs, rugs, and the couch exhausted. "I want food." Mandy announced from her place on Seamus' lap.

"Me too." Ron said from where he was sprawled out across the armchair.

"Nothing new there." Harry said smirking. Ron tossed a pillow at him, and Harry deflected it with his wand.

Hermione let out a yawn, and squirmed a bit. She too had found a nice spot. A _very_ nice spot in her opinion. She was seated on the couch next to Harry, who had casually thrown an arm across her shoulders. But, for as comfortable and happy as the position made her, her brain was screaming for her to stand up and run away as if Harry suddenly lost his nose, learned to talk with a lisp, and turned into Voldemort-incarnate.

"Toot toot, the welcoming train has arrived! Chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo!" A new voice announced from the doorway.

Oh. No.

"Hi Herms, darling. Just popped in to see how things were going." Helen Granger said, offering them all a sweet smile.

"I tried to lock her in the basement, you know, to stop her. But it somehow lost its affect when she used that giant metal globe Aunt Margaret gave you for your birthday to knock the door off its hinges."

"Thanks for trying, Daddy." Hermione said, regrettably removing herself from her comfortable position to kiss her father's cheek and glare daggers at her mum.

"So, cuddly cub, how's everything working out? Everything put away, things went well?" Helen asked, pinching at Hermione's cheek.

"Helen, stop trying to embarrass her."

"Oh, I'm not trying, David. It just comes naturally. It's a part of proper parenting etiquette- you are a failure as a father, that's what you should be worrying about, not my excellence at it."

"Did you bring food, Mrs. Granger?" Ron asked, looking hungrily at the Tupperware in her hands.

"Of course! What kind of mother would I be if I didn't?" She set the container on the coffee table and opened the top. Inside was a batch of heavily iced cupcakes. "And I have some gifts for later." Helen said, patting a tote bag on her shoulder.

Mandy and Ron were the first to grab the food, while the others moved in to take some as well. Hermione, however, just stared. "Cupcakes? Iced, sugar-filled, sweet, yummy cupcakes?"

"Mm-hm." Helen said proudly.

"Mum!" Hermione wailed. "This goes against everything you taught me! You said sugar was an evil monster that would devour my teeth until I looked like a hillbilly and had to use dentures!"

"But you still ate it when you were little, didn't you?"

"Of course, what do you think I'm a weirdo or something? What kid doesn't like sugar?"

"No' meh" Ron said, crumbs spilling out of his mouth.

"Not to mention the last time you made cupcakes my entire campfire troop got their patches in food poisoning. You had help…"

"Okay, so maybe Maya helped a little with the mixing. And the baking. And the icing."

"And maybe she helped with the laundry, and the sweeping, and the vacuuming, because maybe it's why we've paid her for the past twenty three years." David said, shaking his head.

"Oh, shut up." Helen muttered, smacking his arm.

"Listen, Harry, we've got to dash. Mandy has this appointment and I've got to be at the Broken Broomstick for a shipment of foods." Seamus announced, getting up to leave.

"Thanks for helping guys; we'll be down to the club next Saturday at the latest." Harry shook his hand and hugged Mandy goodbye.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm coming along, Glitterbud. Luna and I need to get to the Leaky Cauldron for a meeting, and it's easier if we all just go together." Ron replied, following out the door.

Hermione sighed heavily. Now it was just her, Harry, and her parents. Oh yeah, she could see this working out in her favor. Helen was now packing away the Tupperware and had set her tote bag down. David was busily attempting to meld into the shadows and get away from his wife, as if he knew she was up to something.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Well, since it seems we cleared out the room, I think it's time we leave as well, David. Perhaps they'd like to "hang out" _alone_." Helen said, making quotations with her fingers and winking at the end word.

"Muuum!"

"Oh, you're so touchy." Helen kissed her daughter's cheek and practically dragged her husband out of the room with her. "Come along, David, we need to pick up some things from the hardware store. Like a new doorand some hinges, for starters."

"Bye, pet. It was nice to see you again, Harry."

"Nice to see you too, David."

As the room cleared out, Hermione was suddenly aware of the fact that she and Harry were now alone in his new apartment. And this fact was making her increasingly uncomfortable.

"Well I-"

"You should probably-" They started at the same time. Why was this suddenly so awkward? Oh, yeah. Because you're alone. A-L-O-N-E. _Together. _A voice in her head echoed mockingly.

"I'm just going to head home. Downstairs." Harry walked her to the door, and she started to head down the stairs.

Her apartment was the same when she entered it, Stanley was probably wondering why she wasn't around for him to make aggravating comments about. Dropping her keys on the counter, Hermione suppressed a yawn and went into her bedroom to prepare for bed.

"Hello, bush-for-head."

"Goodnight, Stanley."

She'd barely tugged on her frog-print pajamas when a loud _crack!_ rang through the room. She jumped, and whirled around. Hermione brought her hand to her chest, feeling her pounding heart. "Merlin Harry! Do you want to give me a heart attack?"

"Look! I'm downstairs, at your house!" _Crack!_ "NOW I'M UPSTAIRS, AT MY HOUSE!" Harry screeched from above.

_Crack! _"…And downstairs!"

"I'd make you pay for the funeral, you know."

_Crack! _"…BACK UPSTAIRS AGAIN!"

"Do you realize that you were very near to seeing me in my undies? I think that would be worse than the whole heart attack thing."

_Crack!_ "Hey Herms, just popped _downstairs_ for a minute." Harry said, enthusiastic about the word downstairs. And obviously not having heard what she said. "Oh, darn, I forgot, I live…" _Crack!_

"…UPSTAIRS!"

"Goodnight, Harry." Hermione muttered, falling back against the pillows. This new living arrangement was sure working out nicely for her. At this rate she'd be lucky to survive the first week.

_Crack!_

_Crack!_

_Crack!_

**A/N: Few! That was a long one to write! See, I told you something would happen, he moved in above her! I'm so smart, to do that. :P Anyways, tell me what you thought! Also, I realize I have a lot of OCs, but hopefully I hope you guys think they're funny/related to the plot in someway. And I just loved Helen too much not to bring her in for another chapter.**

**Okay, so I have two quick questions for you guys:**

**Would you recommend my story to other readers? Just want to get a range of how well you think I'm doing.**

**Do you think I need a beta? I don't have one, but I think I do pretty well on my own…**

**Reviewers: Special thanks to my very special reviewers: HARRYHERMIONESHIPPERduh, EAB, emma, animeLCgrl, Hermione Graner Potter, InuKagsguy, Jane and Adam, danrad820, S.B. Kisses, hollyg20, iloveinuyashaandsailormoon, LemonDropAnyone and milky way bar- thanks you guys!**


	10. The Bootylicious Boy Who Lived

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.**

**A/N: **Well, I changed my penname. So sue me. Anyways, I had four teeth pulled yesterday (all baby teeth by the way, it seemed they liked my mouth much too much to fall out like normal peoples' teeth) and my last two finals of six. So, schools out! Does that mean I'll update more? Most likely. But I just wanted to say thanks for keeping up with the fic despite my lack of updates.

**Chapter Ten: The Bootylicious-Boy-Who-Lived**

Working as a Healer-in-Charge at St. Mungos was a very stressful job. Hermione had opted for a career specializing in something similar to what a doctor would handle, which was why she'd asked to be stationed on the magical bugs floor. Presently, on this cloudy Friday in May, she stood at the front of a seemingly empty recovery room with her Trainee Healer Graham Pritchard.

"Alright now, we'll need each of you to come to the front so we can pass out these orange locater bands. You are to wear one at all times, and not to leave the room without a healer escort. Please form two lines, one next to Trainee Pritchard and one next to myself." The brown-haired witch addressed the room of neatly lined up beds.

There had been an outbreak of vanishing sickness, causing her to feel like an idiot, addressing beds that to the naked eye were empty. For all she knew she could be staring at someone's butt. She stretched an elastic bright orange wristband out, waiting for someone to stick their hand through.

As she and Graham continued to mark the patients, a head poked into the room. "Hey, Granger, you've got a floo upstairs."

"Who is it, Justin?"

"How the hell should I know? Some witch, said it was important." Justin said, shrugging before pulling out of the room.

She heaved a large sigh. The visitor fireplaces for emergency contact were located up on the fifth floor with the tearoom and hospital shop. Hermione hated climbing three flights of stairs. "I've got to step out for a minute, Pritchard. Can you handle it?"

"Whatever." The three-year younger former Slytherin nodded.

She stepped out into the hallway passing through her door labeled as the Domitian Microbious Ward: Highly Contagious Illnesses. Her lime-green robes billowed around her legs as she hurried toward the steps.

'Two floors down, one to go.' She thought to herself after finishing off the first flight, puffing as she took the steps two by two. Merlin, wasn't she supposed to be a young, fit witch? Oh, yeah, all the athletic genes in the family had gone to Stephanie and her other cousins. Trish, Aaron, Otto, Bridget, Meghan, Hunter… All she was left with the bloody magic. They could run a few miles without breaking a sweat. What could Hermione do? She could appear from one point to the next. Big freaking deal- she still couldn't get within ten meters of a football field without getting hit in the head with the damn ball.

"I…hate…s-stairs!" She announced after reaching the top. Stepping through the doors and into the tearoom, Hermione regained her breath and looked around for the visitor fireplaces. They were located against the back wall next to the hospital shop. Weaving her way in between the neat pink tables filled with visitors, she located one with a head floating in the green flames that she recognized.

"Mandy, what is it?" Mandy's face was solemn, and for a moment Hermione was truly worried.

"I have…I have a question, and you have to promise to be honest with me."

Hermione nodded gently, signaling Mandy to continue. Oh, she hoped nothing had happened. She hoped Harry hadn't set the apartment building on fire…She hoped Helen hadn't eaten any of her own cooking and suffered death by poison…She hoped Ron's head hadn't finally exploded from all that anger…She hoped-

"Is my butt getting big?"

"What?" Hermione asked, surprised by the question.

"My butt, is it getting bigger?" Mandy asked again. For a moment her head disappeared, and she replaced it with her backside.

"Oh, Merlin. This is what I get for befriending a narcissistic woman. A floo when I'm in the middle of treating a room full of patients infected with vanishing sickness asking me to look at her butt. I suppose I'll just say to that room full of people and Pritchard when I get back, I'll say, 'I'm sorry I had to leave you, but my friend Mandy wanted me to tell her whether or not her ass is fat.'"

Mandy's face had reappeared. "It was a serious question! C'mon, I really want to know. According to the scale, I'm a little heavier, and I need to know if my target weight loss area is my butt or not."

"Well, you've always been a little bootylicious. Maybe you're just getting… bootylicious-er."

"Gee, thanks. I didn't know you spent that much time staring at my ass."

"With floos like this, how could I not? You stick it in my face so often I'm beginning to wonder if you're not bragging or something."

"Ha ha. Well, I've got to go- oh, yeah; Harry says he wants to know if you like pot roast."

"Why?"

"Harry says instead of going out, he's cooking dinner this Friday." Mandy made a face, as if listening to something, and then replied again. "Harry says I wasn't supposed to say anything. Harry says he's going to curse my bootylicious ass into next Thursday."

"Tell Harry I say that I like pot roast just fine, but I'd rather if he waits until I get home. And that if he curses your bootylicious ass into next Thursday I'll curse his own into next Friday so you can sit on his face and suffocate him with it."

"Harry, Hermione says she thinks you have a bootylicious ass too."

"No, that's not what I told you to say! I didn't even say it- I merely- merely _insinuated _without meaning to!"

"Aw, honey, you know I'm a bitch like that. I love twisting words around and-" Mandy paused, her face alight with fear. "Right, well, you've got to get back to work, and I've got to run away from the man with the wand in his hands!" Mandy's face disappeared again, and she heard a crash and a scream before the line cut out.

"I don't think Harry has a bootylicious ass!" She screeched, as if Mandy could somehow still hear her. Mandy couldn't. However, the other patrons could, and they were staring at her strangely. "I don't." Hermione said weakly, before rushing off towards the stairs in embarrassment.

Why was she so insistent in surrounding herself with crazy people? It was starting to rub off on her.

* * *

By the time Hermione had gotten off of work, she was extremely tired. Her hair was more frazzled than usual, and she had something purple on her robes that hadn't been there last time she'd checked. Her apartment looked so inviting, with no sick people, and certainly no welcoming witches glaring at her like she was the worst thing to walk the earth since the blast-ended skrewt. 

She let herself drop on to her bed and kicked off her shoes after tugging off her robes and changing into some track pants and a camisole shirt. She'd been feeling extremely tired lately. Before she knew it, Hermione had dosed off. She dreamed of anything a Star Wars fangirl does- a leading role in the movie. Tonight she was playing Padme to Haden Christensen's wonderful rendition of Anakin Skywalker. Only, of course, she changed a few things here and there. Like adding in some more kissing scenes. She was sure Mr. Lucas wouldn't mind too much.

* * *

Harry James Potter had proved himself to be a very impatient person time and time again. He hated waiting for things he knew were coming. While Mandy had been cowering on the floor, trying to crawl away from his wand after blowing the surprise he was going to give Hermione, she'd told him that Hermione wanted him to make dinner when she got off work. Of course, that wasn't the only thing she'd said. Mandy had jumped at the opportunity to start referring to him as the Bootylicious-Boy-Who-Lived following his attempt to curse her- which, by the way, he'd only stopped because of Seamus' rather threatening glare. 

But anyway, back to Harry's impatience. After living over your best friend for a few weeks, you generally got to know their schedule. Hermione's shift had been over for about an hour, and he'd heard her come in a while ago. Knowing she was home only increased his annoyance.

Finally, he decided to apparate down to see if something was wrong, or maybe she'd changed her mind. Generally, they'd kept up the promise to eat together at least on Friday, and seeing as that was today, he was trying to live up to it. With a quick _crack!_ he was downstairs in her apartment.

All the lights were off, signifying that she was most likely sleeping. Just to make sure, he crept into her bedroom, instantly feeling more than a little like a stalker. Harry made a face, and decided to be as quick as possible. No need to give the press any more reasons to include him in their weekly scandals.

He leaned over the bed a bit, to get a good look in the dark. She was sleeping all right. Hermione had always made a little noise when she slept, half between a snore and a sigh. Her eyes were open about halfway, another interesting little quirk to add to the list. Harry smiled to himself, and patted her on the head gently before getting up to go.

Unfortunately, Hermione had a differing opinion on his leaving. Her limbs wrapped around him, her arms at his neck and her legs tightly around his waist. Much like a spider or… a monkey or something. Surprised by the sudden action and additional weight, he stood up a little, automatically encircling her waist with his arms, and was forced to walk backwards until steadied by the wall.

"Oof!" He said upon impact.

"Mm…Don't leave yet." Hermione mumbled drowsily.

Harry looked at her, his faced flushed. She was undoubtedly appealing at that moment, pushed up and coiled around him. He shook his head, hoping to get the thoughts out while not waking Hermione. One thing was for sure, it would be quite hard talking himself out of this one. "Erm, I-I…"

He was unable to finish the sentence. Harry certainly wasn't expecting her to start placing kisses on the side of his neck. Actually, if it wasn't so wrong to think so, he would have said it was kind of nice. He nudged his shoulder upwards, hoping to stop her.

This, it seemed, only dug him deeper. Without her previous spot to place her mouth, Hermione leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her best friend's lips. Harry didn't respond at first, taking in the strawberry flavor of her soft lips. His face grew even redder, if possible, and immediately his stomach filled with a warm feeling. Shocked by the action, and by his own _re_action, Harry promptly dropped her on the floor out of surprise.

Cracking her head on the floor, Hermione yelped from pain. "Ooh, Merlin, that hurts." Hermione blinked her eyes into focus, and looked at Harry. Her eyes grew wider, and for a moment a flash of fear entered them. The fear was gone after that moment, and replaced with anger. "What are you doing in here? I thought I told you to knock if you were coming down here!"

"Um…I was just going to-"

"…Leave." She finished for him, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him towards the exit. He left, still slightly in a daze from what had happened and walked himself wordlessly home.

Sitting back down on the floor near where Harry had dropped her, Hermione leaned her head against the wall. One moment she'd been dreaming about her lovely Anakin, and the next, he'd morphed into the Bootylicious-Boy-Who-Lived himself. She'd decided that perhaps if she lived out her fantasies at night, this attraction would cease to be in the day. So, stupidly, she'd kissed dream Harry. Only, of course, seeing asshe and fate were feuding, it wasn't a dream. That was what she got for sleeping with her eyes open, dreams and reality blended sometimes. Fate was a dirty fighter.

Oh, Merlin. What did I do to deserve this? She asked herself, mortified. At least Harry still thought she'd been sleeping. One thing was for sure, though, the awkward level had increased ten-fold.

**A/N: **So, what did you think? Ooh and the plot thickens. They've kissed now, so you can't say I don't adore my readers enough to award them once and a while. Anyways, I just adore awkward situations, don't you? But, I, however, know if they become comfortable with each other again or not. Because, for once, I actually know what happens next chapter! And I shall cackle mercilessly when I read your reviews. Only not, because my parents would cart me off to the loony bin. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this chapter! I might just start writing the next now, and let it sit in my computer while I go see Revenge of the Sith tomorrow (FINALLY!) with my mom to- and I quote one of my own previous chapters- stare at Hayden Christensen's face in a dark room for a few hours. Toodles!

**SUPER DUPER EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS TO THOSE WHO ANSWERED MY TWO QUESTIONS LAST CHAPTER!**

**And just a plain extra special thanks to the rest of ya for pushing me over the 100 mark:P**

**HARRYHERMIONESHIPPERduh- Two reviews for the same chapter AND a jinkies? Thanks for reading, and liking the story so much! Oh, and the heads up on Family Guy. But on the east coast it's on at like eleven or so, not nine.**

**Jane and Adam- Aw, thank you! Back as soon as was possible!**

**Oro4- Yes, sweet and annoying at the same time. Just too irresistible!**

**Darth Daffy- Mature and refined…I like that! And yes, they have regressed, but think of it this way- they're taking all that time they missed as teenagers fighting off evil and living it in their twenties. Besides, all the people that are in their twenties I know are… Well, let's just say that my sister is one of them, and she's crazier than I am. I've never read 'The Hitchhiker's Guide' series…**

**animeLCgrl- Aw, thanks about the illiterate not to like my story thing. Its comments like that that keep me writing more!**

**Zoencomp- I want to thank you especially, for printing out my chapters and taking the time to review almost all. And the thing about my story being best written thing! It made me smile so big. Yeah, I have a problem with updates and time management. I have to find the right time, I have to be in a good mood, I have to be happy with what I write…It's a process, but the end product is excellent, and if I didn't go through all of that, I don't think you'd enjoy the story as much! And I have a longtime reader? Wow, when did that happen?**

**Jess- In answer to your question… I just…do. I don't know, I've been reading at FFN for years now, and just last year started writing. Keep checking back, I update as often as I can! I love that you like my story, and think it's so funny, but please don't die if I don't update :P.**

**AJ the Ass Slayer- Of course! If it didn't get better, then it would have to get…Gasp!…Worse!**

**nebodies nobody- Thanks for the comment, and the cookie.**

**milky way bar- Thanks for reviewing, I hope this one was just as funny as the last chapter!**

**SnowDevil334- You really think so? Thank you!**

**Snaps For Daryl- I have to say it- I adore your penname! Anywho, thanks for the review, I do try to pay attention to detail. My mother's always said I have a thing for detail in my drawing, so why not in my writing? Not that I'd let her see it… So, thanks, and snaps for Snaps for Daryl :P.**

**PrincessLuckyCML- Thanks for taking the time to review! Thank goodness on not needing a beta… I don't really know how I'd go about getting one. Now I don't need to worry.**

**LemonDropAnyone- Yes, my story does kick ass, if I do say so myself! Well, bring your inhaler, just incase of laughing yourself to the point of not breathing again. Thanks for saying you'd recommend it!**

**Lolly O'Neill- Well, I do try. I love that, the whole one place then the other. I feel for your parents though, I was annoyed at Harry even while writing it! Thanks again!**

**Gwenyth- I do it as soon as possible, but I have other responsibilities too. Although it would be nice just to take up somewhere and do nothing but write. But I can't. I have go study so I can get into college, and blah, blah, blah.**

**TruMafioso- I always enjoy knowing I've made another person laugh. Thanks for letting me know!**

**hollyg20- Thanks for letting me know I'm not the only one who likes my OCs. I was quite afraid of creating a Mary Sue in the start, but I made sure to push a few flaws that make them human. Plot development for me is going slow, but I'm glad you like what you've read so far. Keep reading!**

**S.B. Kisses- Keep reading and reviewing and I'll be sure the story is abundant in humor and funniness.**

**danrad820- Sorry I was a bit late getting this one up, but here it is!**

**Hermione Graner Potter- Oh, I assure you, he did it quite on purpose to annoy her. And yes, Helen is a hard force to stop, locking her in the basement didn't even slow her down! Lol, anyways, thanks for the review, as always. And when are you going to get the next chapter of your own story up? I hope soon!**


	11. Ask Mandy

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.**

**A/N: **Like I said, more updates! I'm changing my penname back, I dunno, it made me feel less like myself…Which is kind of strange, I guess, considering starry-eyes184 isn't really a name. But moving on…Um…Surprisingly, I have nothing else to add. If it weren't for lack of inspiration, I'd probably be updating everyday, that's how little I have to do in the summer.

**Quick semi-important note about the story**: Many of you may know how to read. And of those who can, you may have read…oh, say, my summary. That implies that the story will go on up until, and even a bit farther than, New Years Eve. But I stupidly started it at New Years Eve as well. So, I'm thinking that I change the summary a bit, seeing as we've already been through 9, now 10, chapters and its only early June in the story. As fun as it is entertaining you, the real juicy bits and, as my 9th grade Alg. II teacher would say, meat-and-potatoes of the story occurs around New Years. Unless I use jumps of time or instead change the summary so as 'Harry's… erm, _birthday wish-slash-resolutions_ this year are raising more than a few eyebrows etc…', then I'll be doing a lot more Hermione-torturing and very little plot development if I keep on this way. So, you have two choices. **A** is the time jumps, and **B** is the changing summary and therefore parts of the story thing. Please vote and help me get an idea of where to go and what to do, thanks everyone!

**Chapter Eleven: Ask Mandy**

Hermione Granger was vaguely aware of the fact that as a nightclub, the Broken Broomstick was not a suitable place for a troubled woman distracted by her own thoughts. Of course, it was just the place to be if you were a troubled woman distracted by her own thoughts who didn't give a rat's ass about suitability. Or one who wanted to get really, really drunk.

But due to her previous adventures in the world of drunkenness, she wasn't sure she should. Then again, anything was better than waiting for the inevitable to happen. Harry was due to arrive in about a half hour and she would be forced to spend the evening shooting him glances and with a face as red as Ron Weasley's ears after being insulted by a certain bouncing ferret.

Two weeks. Two weeks and about ten pounds worth of junk food and she was still mortified about sleep kissing Harry. Hm…But could it _really_ be considered sleep kissing if both parties were awake? She had _thought_ she was sleeping though…

"Hermione Jane Granger!" Snapped Mandy in an irritated voice.

"Mm-hm?" She said thickly, finally realizing that Mandy had been speaking to her since she'd sat down at one of the tables on the garret of the Broken Broomstick.

"You were sitting there all sulky and ignoring my story about my weekend with" Her nose scrunched up at this point, "Mrs. Finnegan- or, as she insists, '_Brianna_'. Why can't I just call her Little Miss I-think-my-son's-too-good-for-you?"

"Oh, she does not." Hermione smiled up at the waiter who brought them their drinks and then turned back to Mandy. "Mrs. Finnegan adores you."

"If the definition of adores has somehow throughout the ages come to be 'would like to toss me out a window and leave me for dead' then yeah, she adores me. But anyway, back to your sulk-fest. What's wrong?" She replied easily, sipping on a gillywater.

Hermione hesitated here. She'd made it a point not to say anything to anyone about sleep kissing- well, she supposed it really was just flat out kissing- Harry. Hermione had contemplated telling, but her decision was not to. Perhaps there was a way, though, that she could tell Mandy but cleverly avoid letting her know exactly what was going on at the same time. It was time to break out the big guns. She'd been trained for stealth, after all, and knew exactly what to do.

"Alright…Um…Suppose for a moment that I have a friend,"

"Hermione! I'm shocked! I know you've got self-esteem problems, but really. You've got loads of friends without anyone having to 'suppose' or 'pretend'. There's me, for one, and Ron, and Seamus, and Luna, and-"

"Mandy! Shut up for a minute and I'll finish my story!" Hermione burst out with. If she was going to do this, she was going get it over with fast, and sans dense comments from her friend. "Now, suppose I have this friend, who sort of, um, fancies another one of her friends. But she's not in love with him or anything, even though all these people are always going on about the two of them, and saying bloody stupid things like they're involved or they're in love and it's totally not true, and they deny it, but people just won't stop. So, anyway, she fancies him and then she was sleeping the other night-"

"Ah, sleeping in the night. At least I know she's not a vampire." Mandy's pretty violet eyes were twinkling, but Hermione fixed her with a hard look.

"As I was saying, she was sleeping, and all of a sudden into her dream comes guy-she-fancies. Now, she decides that she'll live out her fantasy at night and get her feelings out with guy-she-fancies. Only, it turns out, my friend kisses him, and guy-she-fancies wasn't a dream, she really did kiss him, but he thinks she was sleeping and doesn't know she did it. So, now, my friend doesn't know what to do."

Mandy raised an eyebrow, now fully interested. Her world at the moment consisted of her blabbering friend and not the lights and heavy noise of her filled club. "Are you quite sure they're not in love? The line between friendship-backslash-fancy and love is often rather blurry."

Hermione frowned, and started tearing off bits of her napkin- something to occupy her hands with. "What d'you mean by that? You're sounding awfully cryptic."

"Of course I am. Before I discovered my talent in the kitchen I had my six-year-old heart set on working the advice column for Witch Weekly. It was to be called 'Ask Mandy'…" She sighed wistfully here, as if imagining what it might have been like. Then she twitched back to reality, turning her gaze back to her friend. "And by that I mean it wouldn't be the first time that some dim, airhead of a girl has fallen for her geeky-but-lovable best friend and has been utterly oblivious to her own feelings- or, in your friend's case, the depth of said feelings. Some girls think too much with their heads and too little with their hearts. Usually right thick little tarts, they are!"

"Hey!"

"Hey what? Your friend isn't here to hear me insult her, is she?" Mandy smirked viciously now. "Unless, of course, you tried to pull the 'my friend –insert topic you're uncomfortable with here-' on me. Of course you're being rather stupid about it; I am the Ravenclaw here, after all. It's hard to pull the wool over my eyes. And here I was thinking you to be clever!" Mandy laughed mirthfully for a minute, before sobering and continuing on. "She would be yourself, and guy-she-fancies would _have_ to be…Harry, lovely to see you! How long have you been standing there?"

"Oh, very funny Mandy. Just let me say that it is extremely cruel of you to-"

"Hey. Not long actually, I just got here. Is the Cauldron Coven really going to play tonight?"

"How much did you hear?" Hermione demanded horror in her face. Oh, Merlin. If he had heard that entire thing… well, actually, she was pretty sure if he had heard any more than 'Harry, lovely to see you!' from Mandy, he'd have had more of a reaction. Unless he was so mortified that he wanted to pretend she didn't exist, and that might be why he wasn't answering the-

"Um…I heard, Harry… blah, blah, blah, and that's it." He said sitting down next to Mandy and stealing a sip of her drink. Mandy rolled her eyes and swatted him away.

"What do you expect, Hermione? He's got a man's ears and brain, so therefore generally tunes out anything that isn't one of the three B's or his own name."

"What are you yammering on about?" Ron asked, coming seemingly out of no where.

"The three B's, Ron." Mandy announced as he sat down. "The three things that straight men are never not interested in. The three things that catch their attention no matter what- Boobs, Beer, and…something-or-other that starts with a B, it doesn't matter, the first two are enough I suppose."

"Butts, perhaps?" Hermione offered, smiling.

"The third is Barbecuing or Barmaids for those who don't enjoy the first one." Ron said seriously.

"Thanks for your enlightenment, prat, now if you'll excuse me I'm going to hit you."

"Ouch! Hey, stop! Bloody hell, Mandy, what have you got in that handbag, bricks? Stop it!"

"No, you freaking prick! How can Luna get within hearing-range of you and not run away screaming, you're such a pigheaded asshole, you know that?"

As Mandy and Ron continued to argue over why it was okay for her to admit that the three B's existed and not for him, Hermione chanced a look at Harry. Messy black hair falling all over, his green eyes resembling pools of…green things, and a mischievous smirk stuck on his face as if he was always plotting something, well, mischievous.

He was staring at the stage eagerly, hoping for a glimpse of his favorite band. All he could see, however, were witches and wizards dancing to the music played by a D.J. currently. Apparently the group wasn't there yet. "Hey, Mandy, why aren't you ever in the kitchen?" He asked, turning to look at her. "I mean, you are the chef, right?"

Mandy replied, pausing the argument with Ron. "Oh, um…We're staffed very well, and I make everything in the early evening. Besides, I'm the boss and I get to tell everyone what to do, so if they don't like it, they can shove it!"

"Well, that clears up who'll wear the trousers in this marriage." Ron muttered. He ducked away from Mandy's evil handbag as she brought it up to hit him with again. Harry smiled and moved his gaze from Mandy to his drink.

Hermione's face flushed red involuntarily. She wasn't sure if it was from Harry's adorable smile and the way it made her stomach do backfilps, or it was anger at the way he absolutely refused to look at her. Pursing her lips, she decided to try one more time to get him to shoot her at least a glance. Ironic that he was avoiding looking at her. She should have been the one digging herself a hole to lie down and die of embarrassment in.

"Harry, do I have anything on my face?" A seemingly innocent question.

"Yeah, a mouth, a nose, two eyes, and some freckles 'cross your nose and cheeks."

"I didn't ask you, _Ronald_." Hermione barked, saying his name as if it was an insult.

"I didn't see anything last time I checked." Harry finally muttered without looking at her.

Oh yeah, because he noticed so much last time they'd looked at each other's faces directly- he'd been on his way out, she was on her way in. He stepped on her foot trying to avoid looking at her, while she was pretending to rub something out of her eyes and they'd both glanced up in surprise. That was it.

Well, two could play at that. Hermione decided that she wasn't looking at him either. Even if-if he… conga-lined his way up to the stage, stood there in front of the entire club, dropped his trousers and started singing 'I'm a Little Teapot' she still wouldn't look at him. Okay, so maybe a quick glance for all witch and womankind. She could finally answer the question Witch Weekly posed every week. Does the size of the man affect the size of the broomstick? (Before this gem, it had been The Boy-Who-Lived: Boxers, or Briefs? Hermione had snorted at that and tossed her copy in the trash. Honestly, _boxers_ of course, he thought they were much more comfortable when playing quidditch.)

Why on earth was this so damn awkward? The kiss, of course, had been quite the opposite from her side, at least. It was wonderful, something akin to what she imagined flying was for Harry- truly exhilarating, a feeling of such fittingness and intensity, although it was over in a matter of seconds. Maybe the awkward feelings had something to do with the fact that they were technically best friends and therefore not supposed to kiss each other like that- it was in the handbook. Literally- '_Boys, Girls, and Being Best Friends, by Morris Popplecock' _clearly forbade any kissing of the best friend unless both parties were willing participants and said willingness was voiced and/or written in some form of a confession of feeling. There you are. It was in the book, and she'd be damned if she was going to do anything outside of what it said.

"Hermione, is that a yes, or a no?"

Oh, dear. She hadn't heard a word of whatever conversation had followed. Hermione fabricated a response to Mandy's question. "Um, oh…yes. Of course, it's a yes!" She said it firmly, as if sure of it.

Ron spat out some of the firewhisky he'd been drinking. "So, you really would fancy taking a swim starkers in Hogwarts Lake with that sorry excuse of a wizard Malfoy?"

"W-what? I never said that!" 'I'm really getting tired of this the whole-world-is-out-to-get-me thing. It never works in my favor.'

"Not to worry, Hermione honey, we've all got our _secret crushes_." Mandy shot a quick glance in the direction of the oblivious back-haired man next to her. "Besides, if it were me, I'd do it." Mandy said with a shrug.

"You're all mad, the lot of you, and I'm going to cart you off to St. Mungo's and leave you with Lockhart to hand out thousands of his autographed pictures for him."

"Ooh, really? I rather liked him. He was my favorite DADA teacher, the nicest to look at. Besides, you're just angry. Hand over my galleons."

"If you'd have only been paying attention to the question, I'm sure you'd have said no! Cost me five galleons, you did. She devotes seven years to listening to professors- even took notes in bloody history of magic, but can't even follow a conversation with friends, the people you're supposed to enjoy talking to."

"Oh, Ron, you know it takes a real man to catch her attention, one with a nice book in hand whispering sweet factual information into her ears…You just don't measure up."

Hermione had had enough of this. She couldn't possibly stand to sit there and… not carry on a conversation with Harry while he wasn't looking at her. It was extremely unnerving, to the point of almost preferring swimming starkers with Malfoy in Hogwarts Lake to this. And besides that, Ron and Mandy were driving her up the wall.

"As fun as it was… I think I'm heading back home. Justin will murder me if I don't pick up some of the slack that's at work since Donaldson took off for vacation."

"I'll see you tomorrow, I want you to come with me and pick up some ground dragon scales- expensive stuff, but I need it for a potion."

"Until tomorrow then, Mandy. And Ron, watch your mouth or she'll attack you with her handbag again."

"What, I don't get a goodbye? Just a telling off?"

"Goodbye Ron." She complied, rolling her eyes and ruffling his red hair as she passed toward the stairs. She purposely said nothing to Harry, and instead made her way down the neon-lit stairs and through the crowd. She had just reached the door, when someone reached out and grabbed her arm. She spun around, prepared to snap at some drunken bloke trying to slobber all over her, and found herself staring into a pair of green eyes.

"Hermione, wait a minute, I want to talk to you."

**A/N: Okay, strange place to end it, but yeah, it was a sort of difficult chapter to write- not to mention to title, there wasn't anything that jumped out and screamed 'call this chapter –insert whatever-' like usual. But, anyway… You will get at least one more consecutive chapter even if you guys all vote for the time-jumps thing, so we can get this conversation through. **

**Alright, I'm feeling lazy and yeah, so thanks to all reviewers!**


	12. Hereditary Madness

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.**

**A/N: **Hey guys! Next chapter has arrived, due to my good mood. Put in place by being 9th in my class! Thanks for the response to my question, guys. Anyways, I've decided: No changing the summary, it's too late in the game. And if I do make use of time jumps, then they'll be mild ones. Time will be rarely mentioned, until specific instances, like birthdays or holidays come around. I hope that was clear enough!

**Chapter Twelve: Hereditary Madness**

Hermione blinked, and glanced at where Harry still held onto her arm. Frowning, she pulled her arm away and turned so she was facing him. Well, it seemed that Gryffindor courage wasn't dead after all. Harry stood in front of her, looking at his feet for a moment. His expression showed how much he was struggling with what to say to her.

"I, er…"

"If you're having trouble wording this, I'd be happy to lend you my dictionary, so long as you'll get on with it." She snapped annoyed at the way he was taking so long.

Harry straightened up a bit, and rolled his eyes. "Well, gee, thanks but I think I can manage. Look, I'm sorry at how I've been ignoring you, but in my defense you were ignoring me back. I know why I wasn't talking to you, but why weren't you talking to me?"

Hermione opened her mouth, and then shut it. How was she to explain this without letting him know she'd been conscious during the kiss? She furrowed her brow and crossed her arms defensively. "I-I was ignoring you because you were ignoring me." Wow. Could she sound any_ more_ juvenile?

"Oh. Um, sorry then. I know I was being a bit of an ass."

Hermione scrunched up her nose. "A big meanie!" Apparently it _was_ possible for the smartest witch of her age, a holder of the Order of Merlin: First Class, and the woman awarded Most Likely to Act in a Strict Manner to behave as if she was five.

"Well, whatever you call it, it wasn't exactly friendly behavior," Hermione almost sniggered at how well the wording fit with the situation. "And I just wanted to apologize."

"Apology accepted." She said in a tone almost businesslike. She stuck out her hand and Harry looked at her strangely. "What?"

"Don't you want to know why I wasn't talking to you?"

Oh, yes, please either A, lie to my face or B, tell me the truth and expect me to be embarrassed and express regret. Hermione despised liars, and didn't really want to make one of Harry due to her own stupidity, and she certainly wasn't an actor. Either option seemed useless.

"No, not really." She replied simply, shrugging. "Anyway, I'm heading to St. Mungo's. Donaldson's out and I'm taking his shift. I'll see you around, I suppose."

Whirling around Hermione headed for the exit, quite pleased with herself. The night was warm and humid, and the lines at the entrance were long as usual.

"G'night, Miss Hermione."

"Goodnight Boxer, Terrier." Hermione responded to the bouncers at the head of the queue. 'And that's that.' She thought with a smile.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione was dragged by a very enthusiastic Mandy out into the street. She'd arrived at about eight-thirty, just as promised, to fetch Hermione in a quest for dragon scales. The brunette was a chatterbox today, and didn't bother stopping when she stuck out her wand for the morning bus. 

"And so, you see, I've decided based on my extensive social knowledge, that not only are there three B's for men, but there is in fact an equivalent for women." A large sunshine yellow bus had arrived, screeching to a stop and nearly plowing into Polly's green van. "Of course, I haven't quite researched the subject, but I intend to." The doors opened, and out stepped a young man.

"Welcome to the Aurora Bus, emergency transportation for the early rising witch or wizard." The sandy-haired boy said monotonously. The Aurora Bus was different from the Knight Bus in that it was specifically geared toward catering to the needs of morning travelers. The cheery chairs were bolted to the ground, two to one glass table.

Hermione looked up at the teenager working his summer job sympathetically. She grabbed the sidebar and helped herself up into the nearly empty bus. Hermione dropped two sickles into the box before settling into one of the flower-printed cushioned chairs. "We're both for Diagon Alley."

The bus jerked back to life in an instant. A serving witch was moving from customer to customer. She was seated on a chair with no legs. It was suspended from the ceiling by a pole that shifted her from one end of the bus to another so she could easily take orders from anyone without standing or walking. Unfortunately, the Aurora Bus and the Knight Bus were alike in the sense that they both offered fast and wild transport.

She was currently being hurtled from one end of the bus to the other in a rapid motion. "Would you like some- eek!- coffee, or an- oh, my!- early bird special?" The woman asked while being flung across the way.

"No, thank you." Mandy declined, wary of having something hot on such a bus. The rest of the trip went fairly smoothly- well, rather bumpy, in the literal sense- and they had finally arrived. Between the book store and record shop was the grubby looking sign for the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione hopped off the train, and looked up. There, in front of her, was one of the most horrifying sights her eyes had ever beheld.

"Open up, I know there's a pub supposed to be there!" A disgruntled Helen Granger was screeching in front of the Leaky Cauldron like a madwoman. And to her fellow muggles, who along with her only saw the book shop and record store that was exactly what she seemed to be. "I spent twenty-six hours in labor with one of the bloody heroes of your world; I deserve to be let inside!"

Hermione's face reddened as she rushed up to her. "Mum, what on earth are you doing! Do you want me to look like a freaking idiot in my own world? All those people in the pub will know that the crazy muggle yelling outside is _my_ mother!" Hermione wailed. "And the paper will run a story- I see the headline now- 'HERMIONE GRANGER: HEREDITARY MADNESS?' and what about-"

"So I'm good enough to wipe your baby bum and take care of you when you're sick, but not to be let into your little shopping center?"

"It's not a shopping center, Mum, there isn't a McDonalds, or a craft store, or a Seven Eleven inside."

"Nevertheless, I'm coming along. I need a day with the girls."

Letting out a low growl, Hermione lead the way into the pub. Her mother needed to find her _own_ girls. Like, ones more worried about wrinkles, the rising prices of dish detergent, and what Mrs. So-and-So was doing out with Mrs. Next-Door's husband not, as Hermione and her friends were, concerned about men (or in her male friends' cases, women), work, and, you know, the occasional threat of a new rising evil.

"Hallo Hermione, Mandy, um… Strange screaming muggle from outside…" Tom greeted from behind the bar.

"That's Mrs. Granger to you, sir."

Mandy tapped the patterned code on the bricks, and they folded away allowing them all entrance. "You know, Hermione, I'd be proud to call her my Mum."

As usual, Diagon Alley bustled with life. Witches and wizards offered wares to others, while families traveled in packs, searching for things they needed. She was still amazed at the sight. Scents of spices wafted in the air, mixed with the liquor from the Leaky Cauldron entrance. Even as the day was overcast, a certain magical glow covered the place, making it seem as if it were welcoming her back.

Heading toward the apothecary store after her moment of musings, Hermione snorted and replied. "You're also the witch who said she'd willingly run headfirst into a concrete wall just to make sure there wasn't an illusion spell concealing a doorway."

Having nothing to say in response, Mandy simply huffed and stalked into the dreary looking place to get her dragon scales. The store was made all the more dismal by its lack of windows, and even after fourteen years as a witch, some of the strange looking ingredients on the shelves and in the bins gave her the chills.

"You know Hermione," Mandy started, next to the bin of ground dragon scales. They were marked at ten galleons a bag. "Those diced mushrooms over there are quite useful in love potions." She was joking, of course, and apparently the punch line came in the form of a wink.

But the corner of Mandy's mouth screwed upwards at the scent of the pickled batwing, she pulled her chin in a bit, and the result was causing her to look laughably odd. Her face held this position, and spasmed twice.

"Amanda, have you developed a twitch?" Helen asked, amusedly. "And what are you on about, love potions? For whom?" Helen was drawn into the conversation, her eyes lit up with the possibility of meddling.

"Guy-she-fancies, of course." Mandy said casually, taking the bag she'd scooped up to the front to pay. "Ten galleons a bag, that's ridiculous!"

"Well, if you would like to sneak around the dragons and pick up stray scales, then, by all means, go a head and get them yourself." A grumpy looking cashier snapped. He handed Mandy her bag, and the three women exited in a hurry- the ingredient in the bin near the front desk appeared to be _wriggling_!

They were back outside now, where, although the clouds covered the sun, it was much brighter. Mandy announced she was hungry, and dragged the Grangers off for ice cream. Now relaxed more, Helen took advantage of the moment. "So, tell me more about guy-my-daughter-fancies."

Before Hermione could interject, Mandy opened her big mouth. "Well, he's tall, has black hair, was the savior of the wizarding world, and is the most oblivious creature on earth. Of course, that doesn't include the Queen Bee herself, standing right next to you."

"I resent that. And what are you doing, Mandy, telling _Mum_ whom I fancy? Would it be easier for you if I paid for a television commercial, that way you could broadcast it to the ENTIRE WORLD?"

"Shh, keep it down, I don't want anyone to know I'm your Mum, they'll all think I'm related to a madwoman!" Helen said, glancing warily around at the witches and wizards shooting them glances.

"What's a telly-vision?" Mandy asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Oh, you are so hopelessly pureblooded! And you, you're the madwoman!" Hermione had stood up, and started pacing back and forth in front of the other two. Her voice got more and more hysterical and she was soon screaming. "One woman can only handle so much. A crazy mother, extra workload, Slytherin Traniee Healer,a dense-but-Ravenclaw friend, feelings for her best friend…"

"And a partridge in a pear tree…" A calm voice interrupted the tirade. Hermione stopped her pacing, and turned toward the voice. Luna Lovegood stood there, a dreamy smile on her face. Her scraggly blond curls were swept up into a mess of a bun, with what appeared to be a-a _flowerpot _in the center, purple violets sprouting out which matched her robes.

Luna's pale blue eyes were wide as she looked at them all. Of course, they were always wide. "Hermione, it seems you've been having a time of it."

She snorted loudly, and plopped down on a bench like a pouting child. What did _she_ know? She wasn't having a time of it; she was having A WAR WITH FATE! Three guesses who was winning. Luna smiled crookedly at her again. She had a cart in front of her, covered in bottle-cap earrings and the like. Apparently she was selling them. Hermione wondered if any witches had actually bought them.

"There's nothing wrong with an emotional explosion, so long as you know how to go about it. But just in case you're not as open to public outbursts as I, you may want to make use of this." Luna pulled something out of her flowerpot and offered it to Hermione.

She took it, brushing off the mud and white plant food. It was a business card. It read:

Drs. Melville and Marsha Haliwell:

THERAPY FOR THE EMOTIONALLY UNHINGED

723, Craze Alley, London

Floo: Mad Motel

Hermione blinked at the card. _Loony Lovegood_ was giving _her_ advice on getting therapy? Maybe the world had all gone mad. Minus, of course, Hermione herself. She didn't need therapy. No way did the woman in denial, who spoke to fate often as if it were an actual person, and enjoyed spending days on end mooning over her problems and keeping her emotions to herself need any help at all from a therapist.

"I have more, if you'd like a different one. I'm sure that one of the many will suffice. People give them to me all the time, I can't imagine why, though. The hinges on my emotions are in working order. Well, good day to you all, I must be off. The glowing necklaces need to be fed every hour, otherwise they get angry and strangle the wearer or themselves."

They all nodded their goodbyes, and Hermione glanced back at the white card. She traced the edges with her finger, before shoving it into her purse. She would at least keep it; there was nothing wrong with _that_.

**A/N: **Now I feel like the talking scene was built up and all for nothing. Hm, just couldn't figure out how to word it, I suppose. Anyway, not much of Harry here.Wow. I totally didn't mean to do that. I just… did. Hm. I am quite unpredictable. Even I don't know what I'll do next. I honestly have no idea why you all put up with me, or like my story so much. Anyway, there it is.

**Reviews: Special thanks to you all!**

**A QUICK NOTE TO ALL: I REALIZE YOU LOVE/LIKE MY STORY AND HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO, BUT PLEASE REFRAIN FROM REVIEWING MORE THAN…TWO TIMES PER POST OF MINE, AND NO EMAILS. **

**I love that you love it and all, but please people, relax! I have a favorite's category. Check the stories in my favorites list for more great fics. Not all are humor, but they're wonderful. And my email was only displayed so that people who would like me to post a story at an ezboard or such site had the option of inviting me to do so, I'd prefer to only hear from you guys here- not that I don't appreciate it, I feel email is just too personal. Anyways, yeah.**

**Zoencomp: You asked about a shirt in…chapter four. It's the 'Reading is Sexy' shirt. Anyway, I saw the review again and wanted to say that yes, it is a real shirt. Rory Gilmore in the show Gilmore Girls (my favorite show!) wears one. I'm not sure where or if you can buy one, but there is at least one in existence. You could probably google it.**


	13. Attack of the Killer Egg Salad

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.**

**A/N: **I've been in a bit of a rut, so yeah, this might suck. More Harry this chapter and the next as well, 'cause its sort of a two-parter. Maybe even three, I'm not sure yet. Everyone ready for HP and the Half Blood Prince? I know I can't wait! Anyway, enjoy!

**Chapter Thirteen: Attack of the Killer Egg Salad**

**FOR ANYONE WHO DOESN'T READ MY AUTHOR'S NOTES: Anyone with ideas for the hunt may submit them in their review. It'll make sense after you read this chapter.**

Hermione Granger had never felt this bad before. And that included the time she threw a bucket of flobberworm maggots saturated in slime at Neville's head. She was aiming for Malfoy after he shoved some down the back of her robes during potions in sixth year, and it was a complete accident, but that didn't help poor Neville, who spent the rest of the day picking them off his hair and robes.

"So you really can't get out of it?" It nearly broke her resolve to see Harry standing in front of her, with such a disappointed look on his face.

This Friday they were all set to go up and watch Ron and the rest of the Cannons play against the Tornados. The odds were in favor of Ron's team, which almost ensured a large victory bash for them to attend after the match as well. Apparently, however, her attendance at the St. Mungo's annual company picnic was essential. Merlin forbid if she not be there this year for the 'terrific event'. The highlights of the evening, a three-legged race and a bowl of questionable egg salad, were just so wonderful she'd have to be crazy to miss them.

"No, Justin is constantly hounding me about this whole 'working as a team' deal. I think his head got a bit big when Peony Bonham- the great-great-something grandniece of Mungo Bonham- made him chief of staff."

"Weren't you upset to be passed over?"

"Not at all- he's been there longer, puts in a lot of overtime, so it was logically the right way to go. Anyway, I am so, so sorry about missing the Cannons game. I'm sure you and Ron will have loads of fun without me. Honestly, I'd just sit in the corner by myself."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course you wouldn't. Ron and I wouldn't let you."

"Yes, and I can see how the evening would go now…We go to the match. I worry over Ron falling off his broom or being hit with a bludger or going blind or whatever. The Cannons will, unsurprisingly, win and I will gripe about not enjoying quidditch very much. After the victory, we'll go to the party. Then, I will sit in the corner and read a book I cleverly snuck into the party." Hermione was pacing back and forth now, fully into her vision of what might happen.

"You will sit down, Ron will come too. Both of you will convince me to loosen up, hand me a firewhisky, and insist I drink it. I'll take the drink after getting in an argument with Ron about me being a priss and drink it in attempt to prove a point. With a few more of them in my system, I'll proclaim my undying love for everyone in the room, stand up and enlist the aid of a lampshade as a hat, and belt out a terrible rendition of 'I'm a Little Teapot' before someone manages to knock me off whatever table I'm standing on and portkey me home. The next morning, armed with anger and a hangover, I will march upstairs in my hangover chic clothes, and promptly beat you over the head with a large rock- a large _pointy_ rock before flooing to Ron's flat to do the same."

Harry looked at her incredulously. "Ron going blind? Pointy rocks?"

"Well, naturally. His eyes could be pecked out by a nearby bird, or whatever. And, I'll be too angry, so a wand in my hand would be way more dangerous than a simple rock. It's in your best interest, really."

"That's true, but would you really rather go to some picnic, or hang out with me, Ron, some firewhisky, potential pecking birds, and pointy rocks instead?"

"Well…" Hermione paused and thought. Justin was possibly more neurotic than she was when it came to work-related issues. But she _had_ been looking forward to those pointless picnic games…Hermione was rather competitive when it came to useless sports. Wait- no, she still had nightmares about being magically bonded to Graham for the Healer-in-Charge/Trainee three-legged race, and she could swear that egg salad tried to eat _her_. "I'd rather go with you."

"Then it's settled!" Harry proclaimed, getting up off her couch and looking victorious.

Hermione blinked, not at all understanding what he was on about. Harry was sure nice to look at, but when it came to speech capabilities he was lacking in the clarity department. "Huh?"

"You'll go to the picnic,"

"Oh. I-"

"And I'll come with!"

She raised an eyebrow. He had obviously never been to one of these picnics before. Or in close proximity to a drunk-on-power Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Alright then, just know that this won't be any fun."

"Aw, don't be so modest. I'm sure the St. Mungo's crowd knows how to party- just as well as the good ol' Library of Rare Books crowd."

"Right. By day, we're responsible life-saving healers. By night, we all behave like college frat boys- drinking from kegs in our togas."

* * *

By five, they'd made it to the site of the picnic. It was in the middle of nowhere, out in some meadow surrounded by a forest. As with all wizarding gatherings, certain precautions against muggle interference had been taken. The setup was nice; a large gazebo-like tent made of gauzy white material shielded neat little round tables with small cards on them. When you arrived, you were given a nametag. After pinning it on, the tag glowed a certain color, and a blank card on one of the tables scrawled your name and glowed the same shade to guide you to a seat. 

Peony Bonham stood over at a desk covered in the nametags, and after spying her, Hermione jetted toward the table with Harry trailing after her. The naturally petite blond woman looked as if you could knock her over with a feather. Her curls were pulled up into a haphazard bun, and she wore a modest skirt and a pink cardigan. The twenty-five-year-old could certainly do with one of Mrs. Weasley's feasts.

"Hello Peony." Hermione said smiling.

"Ah, Healer Granger, lovely to see you supporting our fine institution."

"Oh, there's no where else I'd rather be today." Hermione said, taking the nametag she held in her calloused hand.

Peony's laughter came out shrilly. When she composed herself, she leaned in towards Hermione, as if to tell her a secret. "Work on your lies, Hermione, they're not very convincing."

She flushed, and shrugged. "Okay, so I passed up a quidditch match my friend Ron is playing in, but other than that this is it. My version of cloud nine."

"You need to get out more if your version of cloud nine is a picnic with some jackasses from work."

Hermione turned to Harry, who'd spoken the words as he introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Harry. I don't think you have a nametag for me, as I don't work here or anything."

Peony smiled, revealing her large teeth. "Well, I wouldn't be so sure about that! We also keep a few extras, for any spouses or dates our healers take along." She opened one of the desk drawers, and ducked away looking for one.

Hermione's cheeks turned pink. She rushed to explain. "Oh, Harry's not my date."

Peony obviously didn't care. She handed Harry a name tag after reappearing. "Just tap it with your wand, say your name, and Hermione's, as she's the staff member you came with."

They thanked her, and proceeded to find their seats. Hermione's tag turned a violent shade of green, and she and Harry made their way to the correct table. An uncomfortable silence fell over them.

"Well…now what do we do?"

"We could partake in some questionable egg salad."

"Mmm…"

"You must be careful, though, it bites back."

"Then I think I'll pass, thanks. What else is there to do?"

Before Hermione could answer, a man called for their attention. "Welcome, welcome fine personnel to our annual St. Mungo's company picnic!" He waited as a small murmur of appreciation erupted from the guests before continuing. "Alright, now as per tradition we should be hosting a number of events for you to enjoy, and celebrate the lives we've saved together. However, this year in place of such games as the three-legged race, the broomstick toss, and find-the-wand-in-the-stick-pile we'll be hosting a treasure hunt. It shall not be easy, I'll warn you. More like an obstacle course. The winners will receive an all-expense paid vacation to ancient Etemolopscin, the only wizarding city below ground. All who wish to participate must do so in a group of three. Please register your group and its members with Peony Bonham and you will receive your first clue and a list of all rules at six thirty. Thank you for your attention, and your dedication to our establishment."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. This is new. I wonder whose idea it was, and who's paying for that trip to Etemolopscin. She certainly wouldn't mind a visit… The city was said to be very interesting, the buildings were carved out of the rock and underground. Witches and wizards lived harmoniously with the creatures called the grudlins, stout and round creatures with clay-like skin. They were quite the dirt connoisseurs.

Next to her, Harry was rubbing his hands together. "So, who's to be our third?"

There he goes with that clarity problem again. She blinked out of her musings. "Excuse me?"

"You know, our third group member, for the hunt. You can't be considering _not_ entering. Besides, what would we do while the hunt was going on, wait to be eaten by a mound of that egg salad? I saw it earlier, Hermione, it growled at me!"

"Oh, alright. But just so you know it's not for you. It's for the trip to Etemolopscin. I've been reading up on the fascinating habits of the grudlins and would love to get the chance to observe them firsthand." She sniffed.

Harry smiled brightly at her, and on an impulse pecked her on the cheek. She blushed, and could feel the place his warm lips touched her skin. As much as she wanted to go on pretending to be against the idea, she just couldn't help but mirror his happy look. For a moment, they just sat looking at each other. That moment was ruined by a jumpy Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Hey, Granger, want to have a group together?"

"Well Harry and I have already got one; we're only missing one member, if you'd like to join ours." She offered. 'Please say no, please say no, please say-'

"Sure." Justin pulled up a chair to their table and sat in it backwards. "Any ideas on what these clues'll be like? What about our group name? How about the 'Fly Swatters'? And do you think Peony will be impressed if we win? If we win might we get promoted?"

Harry looked bewildered; he hadn't seen neurotic Justin since the N.E.W.T.s were going on. Hermione sat back and easily answered the questions in chronological order. "No, though I've read quite a bit on riddles, so if they're in such a style I'm prepared. I don't know about the group name, I haven't had much time to think. The Fly Swatters is an unusual name, quite out of place anywhere but at an exterminator's convention. I'm sure Peony doesn't need you to win a contest to be impressed with you; you're a good healer, Justin. And I doubt we'll be promoted for solving riddles, earning clues, and finding a treasure."

"Er…yeah, what she said." Harry muttered, nodding.

"In the mean time, I suggest we all get some food and tuck in, so we're fueled during the hunt." She advised wisely.

The other members of the group agreed, and all three fixed a pate for themselves. Harry theorized about what was going on at the Cannons game, and Hermione concentrated on recalling some of the riddles she'd read in _Remarkable Riddles _and _Conundrum Creatures: The Sphinx_ during dinner. Before they knew it, it was six twenty five.

"Alright, we've got five minutes to register." The three headed up to the desk where Peony sat, and got in the back of the line of competing wizards.

Finally, they reached the front. Peony smiled brightly at them as she scrawled down their names on a list. "Granger…Finch-Fletchley…Potter…" She looked up after writing it, and offered them a box covered in striped paper. "Now, this box will open at exactly six thirty, when the contest begins, and will give you your first clue. Please be advised that there are only three to a group; no alliances between groups can be formed; there is no outside help; you'll be disqualified if you engage in physical or magical fights with any other groups or any members of your own group or if you are caught breaking these rules. If you are in serious and dire need of assistance, please shoot red sparks into the air and someone will be by with a portkey to St. Mungo's. Please shoot blue sparks to alert someone if you're lost, and please shoot yellow sparks for if you are in need of emergency potions, salves, or tonics; if you cannot do so yourself have a group member do so. Have fun, and good luck to you all!" Peony finished cheerily.

Hermione accepted the box for the team, and thanked Peony. "Peony, are we supposed to simply wait at our tables for the box to open?"

She cast her brown eyes away from the list she'd been staring at, and nodded. "Yes, just go back to your table and wait. Any more questions?"

"No, thanks." Hermione murmured, heading back to the table. She placed the box at the center of the table, clearing away the plates. Harry and Justin sat down, and the three stared at the box, waiting for the ticking clock to hit six thirty.

"The time has come for all applicants to be seated with their boxes at a table! Ten seconds to go!"

"Nine…Eight…Seven…Six…Five…Four…Three…Two…One…"

The box erupted in a bright light, and burst open, sending colorful shreds of paper shooting across the table. A small piece of yellowed parchment sat in front of them all on a bed of gold paper Mache threads, curly writing in red ink written on it to form their first clue. The hunt was on.

**A/N: Well, there it is. I wrote three drafts of this chapter, one in which Harry was sick, the other of which Harry was a prat and dragged Hermione off camping. I couldn't finish either one. I like where this one is going, it leaves me free to do a lot of things- give Harry/Hermione the prize and make them spend a vacation underground with each other, make them lose and…do… something else…whatever the outcome is, I still have the hunt to write for next chapter. Anyway, cross your fingers, my fellow H/Hr shippers-HP and the Half Blood Prince! Can you believe it's coming out? AAAAAH! I'm freaking out!**

**Oh! And the Fly Swatters was my honors biology group name for our fruit fly breeding/genetics project.**

**Reviews: It's four in the morning. I can't reply to them right now, but know that I honestly love hearing what you think, so thank you for contributing your thoughts. Anyone with ideas for the hunt may submit them in their review.**

**And I'm surprised you can all tell about my Gilmore Girls-fanaticness! I have a fic in that category, so if you wanted to you can check it out. **

**And to the person who mentioned the Luke/Lore situation: It's spelled Lorelai, and I also can't wait to see his answer!**


	14. Snapped!

**Disclaimer: Rest assured that if I had owned this, and anyone called part of my fan base delusional, they would have gotten a long lecture. And possibly I might snub them in a largely public way, like in a press conference or whatever. Then laugh. But seeing as none of those things has happened to a certain interviewer, you can correctly assume that I own nothing you recognize.**

**A/N: **(rant)Anvils my ass! I think I'll take one of those anvils and drop it on HBP. A few hundred times. Anyway, pumpkin pie and sympathy for all! Here I am to make you laugh. I've been gone so long since I left for vacation, but I'm back. However, just note that cross country starts for me next week. Wish me luck, since, you know, I so totally suck. Out of like sixty people, I always manage to get DEAD LAST PLACE. This year I hope is better than last year, if only for my self-esteem. College credit better be worth getting up at nine a.m. to go and run in the hot sun when I don't even enjoy athletics (/rant). Okay, now on with the chapter! I had quite the trouble coming up with these riddles, so I certainly hope you're happy.

**Chapter Fourteen: Snapped!**

"Um…Where are we?" After about an hour of clue-hunting in the frigging FOREST, they had all, apparently, forgotten something. And that something just so happened to be a map. Hermione was hot, slightly sweaty, and her hair had frizzed out so that it resembled some of the surrounding foliage. Not to mention the whole spending an hour with not only Justin, (who she was sure, if he hadn't already, would be having a mental breakdown veeeeery soon) but also with Harry too. Whom she thought was benefiting from the current situation on account of how hot he looked slightly sweaty like herself (only, you know, Hermione doubted that she looked as good sweaty as he did), with his green eyes holding an excited glint.

"Oh, I don't know Justin; let me pull that emergency map I keep in case I get lost in the forest while on a treasure hunt at a company picnic OUT OF MY ASS!" Hermione snapped, frustrated. It was bloody hot out and the damn clue was no where in sight. Swearing was becoming more and more tempting. As if using the words ass, bloody, and damn could somehow magically cause the clue to get up and throw itself at them.

Justin blinked at her from where he was leaning against the trunk of an oak tree. "You keep your emergency map in your ass? I mean, is that _physically_ possible?"

Hermione just stared at him incredulously. What kind of examiner gave him the okay to become a Healer-in-Charge? Or a _Trainee_ for that matter? Peony must be suffering from some kind of brain-trauma to make _him_ Chief of Staff. "NO YOU MORON!"

"Hey now, there's no need for insults! I was just responding to something _you_ said!" Justin exclaimed, pushing off the trunk and moving to stand in front of her.

"OH, so you're saying that what I'm saying is causing you to say something _moronic_ in response to what I'm saying because _I_ said it!" Hermione was positive that she'd regret getting in this argument later. And that looking back on it, maybe she just should have smiled and muttered yes to his questions. But now, in this setting, she was going to blow up at Justin. Because currently, part of her brain was reasoning that everything from the heat, to the missing clue, to her bloody hair frizzing was _his_ fault!

"I might be!" Justin announced defiantly, not seeing that Harry was shaking his head furiously at him and mouthing the word 'no' from where he was searching a bush for the clue.

Hermione fixed him with a glare. Her hands moved to her hips, she planted her feet firmly, and she bared her grinding teeth at him. It was waaay past her McGonagall impression. Now it was her Mrs. Weasley. "YOU MIGHT BE? ARE YOU SO FREAKING INDECISIVE THAT YOU CAN'T EVEN TELL WHETHER OR NOT YOU'RE BLOODY SAYING WHAT I SAID I THOUGHT YOU SAID?"

"I'M NOT INDECISIVE YOU CRAZY WITCH!" Noting that calling Hermione a witch wasn't having much effect (seeing as, you know, she really _was_ a witch), he struggled to make it more offensive. "…W-WITH A B! CRAZY WITCH WITH A B!"

In a normal mindset, Hermione would have laughed so hard her abs got sore. First he had called her a witch (albeit a crazy one- well, she _did _get that therapy card from _Luna_). That was like calling, oh, the sky blue! The grass green! And certainly the pot calling the kettle black. (The crazy part, not the witch part.) And secondly, after saying it, he shrunk back and flinched immediately when she shook her fist at him. As if she was _really_ going to hit him.

But, again, she was feeling particularly argumentative and aggressive. So that was why she let out a feral cry and tried to tackle him. (Okay…So maybe she _was _going to hit him.) Justin put his arms up, ready to fight, and Hermione landed a good blow to his left eye before Harry's (rather nicely toned) arms surrounded her waist and promptly yanked her backwards.

"LET ME GO! I'M GOING TO BEAT HIS ASS INTO THE GROUND!" Hermione screeched, kicking and flailing in Harry's arms.

…Wait.

She was in Harry's arms! Screw it! Who cared if some disturbed weirdo called her a crazy witch-with-a-b when Harry was holding her against his chest, with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist (…to keep her from throttling Justin…) and he smelled all nice and woodsy and like that soap he uses? Especially when she could totally slip potion vials into Justin's pockets and frame him for stealing thereby ruining his career… and _then_ she could beat his ass into the ground!

However, after her realization Hermione stopped her flailing. And unfortunately, Harry took this as a sign she was calm enough to be released. Hermione frowned, disappointed at the sudden loss of contact. "Now, are we calm enough to handle the next clue?" Harry asked.

Feeling like a child, Hermione nodded her head, mortified. Justin grumbled from where he was sitting on the forest floor.

"Good, because I found it in this tree knothole while you were… having your 'discussion'."

Immediately at attention, Hermione moved in to read over Harry's shoulder. It was another small, yellowed square with another puzzling clue in curly red script. So far the other's had informed them that they were to keep moving east throughout the entire hunt, the second was found wedged between the roots of an old birch tree, and the third had cryptically mentioned knots and crosses. It made much more sense now that Harry had found it.

Before she could get a good look at the clue, however, Justin shoved her out of the way. "What the hell does that mean?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing.

"Oh, give it here." Hermione said bossily, snatching it away from her group members' incapable hands. She read it over, reflecting on the words.

"_**This darksome burn, horseback brown,  
His rollock highroad roaring down,  
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam  
Flutes and low to the body falls home."**_

"Ah! I know what it is!" She squealed, jumping up in excitement. "It's Gerard Manley Hopkins!"

"Oh, great. Now we've got to go find some guy." Harry muttered irritably. "Do you know him? Where would he be if he were the answer to a treasure hunt clue?"

"No, no. He was a _poet_."

"So we should check for any poetry readings in the area?" Justin asked.

"He wouldn't be there. He'd be in a grave, somewhere. Since, you know, he _died _in 1889. That's not the answer; it's just the person who wrote the riddle." Hermione corrected. "Now, the answer is river. It's a river."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why couldn't you just say river then?"

"Because I thought instead of the _creator_ of the riddle. And I knew the answer then."

"So, you could have just said, 'Guys, Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote this riddle and the answer is river.'"

"Oh, whatever." Hermione huffed. "Let's just find the damn river and get it over with!"

The three started moving eastward in silence, looking forward to finishing the hunt.

* * *

It took fifteen minutes of trudging through shrubs and high grasses until they'd heard the sound of rushing water. Down a small muddy ditch was the river they'd searched for.

"Well…Now what? I mean, they said river, and here it is. But I'm not exactly going to jump in there looking for a clue, or anything." Hermione muttered, watching the fast-rushing water warily. She could see the edge several meters away, where the river ended in a waterfall.

"Well…It's lucky for us that I have the initiative to push you!" Justin announced.

Hermione was about to laugh, when it happened.

He did it. Just shoved her in, I mean. Hermione had never been this angry in all her life! She hit the cold water after a surprised shriek. Because really, how many people can predict that their unstable co-worker actually _meant _it when he announced he was going to push you in to a river who-knows-how-deep, leading to a waterfall who-knows-how-close, with who-knows-what swimming around it?

The water was cold, but it was a welcomed cold due to the heat of the summer afternoon. However, the silt and filmy dirt moving past her body (and ick, through her clothes and hair) most certainly were not welcome. Also, the pull and force of the rushing water moving her downstream wasn't exactly appreciated either.

Beneath the water, she heard Harry's muffled shouting and a splash as he jumped in after her. 'Well, a lot of good that'll do.' Hermione thought to herself. Now two out of three members of their group were at the mercy of the river's will. And that certainly wasn't going to help them win the hunt.

She struggled to swim upriver, away from the pull. But her efforts seemed to be futile. She was yanked closer to the falls and tossed by the currents like a rag doll. Hermione put all her strength into getting her head above the water for air. Harry had reached her now; she could feel him swimming next to her. Well, it was either Harry or some large…swimming… _animal_.

A hand closed around her forearm. 'Good. Definitely Harry then.' His grip tightened, and afterwards she could feel the effects of apparation- the pressure from the water became less noticeable as the apparation pushed in at all sides, her chest tightened, and she imagined she felt quite like Augustus of _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_-fame during the chocolate river scene.

Finally, a loud echoing crack resounded and she felt solid ground beneath her. Solid, damp, and rigid ground, but she rather liked it better than her previous location. After taking a moment to catch their breaths, Harry and Hermione looked at their surroundings.

They were in a dark, hollow cave made of gray rock. The only visible opening was through the heavy pounding falls- Harry had taken them _inside_ the waterfall! "How did you…?" She trailed off, looking around in wonderment. Part of the apparation process was Destination. Apparating without having been to the destination was rough, hard on the wizard and hard on their magic.

Harry shrugged a little, still breathing hard. "The better question is why _didn't_ you?"

Actually, that _was_ the better question. She was the 'smartest witch of her age' and yet, she often forgot about it. Okay, so maybe not often so much as high-pressure situations. Which, when you think about it, really isn't the best time to forget such a thing.

Glancing around again, Hermione sighed. Well, one thing was for sure- that mental breakdown of Justin's had finally come to pass. He'd snapped!

**A/N: I know that it started weird, ended badly, and I didn't do well with the riddles, but really, the riddles are hard to work with. I _could_ have made this longer. Obviously this is a part one of two (maybe even three?). But really, I promise that the wait for the next chapter will be worth it- wink, wink! (IF YOU AREN'T VERY BRIGHT, THEN BY THAT I MEAN THERE WILL BE H/HR!) I know that you may have expected more, but really, I have a lot planned for next chapter. Please do me a favor and shoot me a review. It will encourage me to write sooner!**

**Reviews: Oh. My. Goodness! I have never had 195 reviews. EVER! So, thank you to each and every person who bothered to respond to my story.**

**Tammy Tamborine: Here's the first part of the hunt, enjoy!**

**Sunny June 46: Yes! How dare you talk about science when Harry Potter is insanely cooler? Lol, really though, I am working towards being pre-med. Thanks for the heads up about the future projects, though. That was a good idea you had, but the direction I went flowed more easily for me. I hope you like the direction I went with it!**

**AJ the Ass Slayer: Hee hee, thanks for the idea, and the review.**

**Jarno: Yes, it's so sad! I really wish she hadn't killed my ship. Oh well… C'est la vie.**

**Chikara-yuy: Thanks! I love my made-ups. Oh, and I'm not an egg salad fan either.**

**Bookworm4ministerofmagic: Yeah, I wasn't very happy with last chapter. Or the book. Feel free to rant in your reviews, if it'll make you feel any better.**

**Jane and Adam: Thanks for the review!**

**Anon.: "Gah! I need consoling, and I am so happy that you posted. HBP was disappointing for me" Aw, I'm glad my story helped cheer you up some!**

**Jess: I think I may take that advice- I try to stay away from clichés and overdone fiction ideas. Well, too many clichés, anyway. Much like the entire OBHWF ship. (-Is being bitter-) Well, thank you for your review, and your suggestions!**

**Oro4: Thanks! I did read it, I dunno if I'll ever enjoy HP the same way as before HBP. I'll still read the seventh, of course, and write the fanfiction, but really…. Stupid OBHWF. HATE IT! (-Tries to crush OBHWF with one of the anvils-)**

**Jess-chan of the Nya Nya Neko: Aw, you really think I'm good at writing? Thanks so much!**

**Reina: No, I'm not abandoning anything! Ugh, I couldn't think of it! Thanks for the review, and if you're a writer, I encourage you to keep on with your H/Hr fics as well. Look at the D/Hr fans, even with their ship sunk, they still write, no?**

**MeganAlyce15: Thanks! Sorry it took so long!**

**Anon.: "Hey, staryeyes! I like your story a lot more than I liked book 6" Really? Thanks!**

**FroBoy: Sorry it took so long, here's the update!**

**Hermione Graner Potter: Have you updated your own fic? Did I miss it? Anyways, yes, Gilmore Girls is totally my favorite show. And yes, H/Hr forever. :'(**

**Deadlynightshade: Ha! I screwed up my own story long ago. Like, chapter one. Anyways, I'm glad you like it! Thanks for the ideas!**

**Hollyg20: Aw, that stinks about the computer! Well, my authors note does make me sad too, but I'm a comedic person. So, I'll laugh it off, and hopefully cheer up others as I go.**

**Kiki Cabou: Wow. I mean, really, wow! Your reviews were great, especially this last one! I was blown away with how you described my story, really. If you're this good at reviews I'm sure you're great at writing, no? Have you got some H/Hr fiction? Anyway, yes, I'll see what I can do about hitting Justin with the egg salad and some more "dangers". And I'm moving the plot next chapter. It's been slow-going, because really I made a mistake in starting the story at New Years when the main part of the plot occurs on New Years as well. So, I need to keep going until New Years for my summary to make sense…thank you for your reviews!**


	15. Again, Sugar

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

A/N: I am sooo sorry! I was thinking of updating (We read _Misery_ in English, and were talking about the Scheherazade complex, and it reminded me of my HP fanatical-ness). So, now, several months after I said I would, I'm updating. I finished cross country, PSATs (178, baby!), but still have state testing, school, SATs, driving, and fetal pig-dissecting (with my bare hands, right before lunch no less! And it's really, really hard to distinguish one pig muscle from another, trust me.). **I will explain what happened in the end of the hunt and the cave, just not this chapter. It will be in flashback form next chapter** **(whenever I can get that out).** I tried so many times to sit down and write that part out, but it gave me major trouble, and that's part of the reason it took so long for this. So, this is a generic, light filler chapter. No Harry, but PLENTY next chapter. It turned out to be a Hermione and Mandy friendship sort of chapter, and we find out some more about Mandy's family.

**Chapter Fifteen: Again, Sugar**

Hermione heaved a great sigh and gently pushed open the doors to _Dream Dresses_. It was a good thing Pebble Stone hadn't attached a bell to either of the doors, because Hermione was already running late. A quick wave of guilt washed over her as the young brunette made her way over to the center rack of the store. Pebble really did mean well…

Hermione promised herself then that the next formal muggle event she attended would be in the pinkest, frilliest, most sequin-covered dress Pebble could design for her. But for now, she dived in between a velvety blue dress with a balloon skirt and a sparkling, canary yellow taffeta number. Ms. Badger was having _the biggest _Vera moment of her life (i.e. her very first bridal fitting for Seamus and her wedding, to occur this New Year's at midnight), and the presence of Ms. Lioness had been requested, so Hermione pulled on the latch of the trapdoor hidden in the pink carpet, and began to descend the ladder.

She nearly landed on top of a short, blond woman at the bottom. "I'm so sorry!" She cried, steadying the poor girl.

"For what?" The witch asked, her wide violet eyes questioning. Hermione surveyed her for a moment. She certainly was a relative of Mandy's, those eyes were rather unique. However, this girl was at least a head shorter than Hermione's best female friend, with waist-length blond hair- quite the opposite of Mandy's straight black locks. The nameless woman also had wider hips and a bit of weight around her middle.

"For knocking into you…" Hermione said slowly.

"_Oh_." She said in her high-pitched voice, as if that explained everything. After a beat, she grinned widely, revealing rabbit-like front teeth and creating large dimples in the folds of her cheeks. "Who're you?"

"I'm Hermione, a friend of Mandy's."

"Ah, yes." Another beat. "I've got a sister called Mandy!"

Hermione did her best to hold in a snigger. So _this _was Sugarsheen Brocklehurst. Based on how their first conversation was going, she was sure that if she'd called Mandy 'a little dense sometimes', and she was being rude, she'd have outright called Sugarsheen _brainless_.

A small girl Hermione didn't recognize came running up to them, tears streaming out of her (you guessed it!) violet eyes. The brown haired girl couldn't have been more than eight.

"Mum, mum!"

"Yes, Lavender-"

"Violet, Mum."

"Lilac-"

"Violet!"

"Mauve! Calm down, dear, and tell Mummy what's got you in a tipsy."

"Violet. And I'm not tipsy, I'm in a tizzy."

"Amethyst, you're not tubby." Sugar said, patting her head like a dog. "Go on now and find Sprite."

"Pixie, Mum." Violet muttered, shaking her head. "And that's exactly why I came over here! Pixie's trying to eat one of my Exploding Snap cards, and if she chews on it long enough, it'll blow out her teeth!"

"Fairy can explore snag cranks if she likes. And you have lovely teeth, Plum."

Deciding that now would be a good time to go and find Mandy; Hermione quickly excused herself ("So long, Heramine!") and moved past the entrance. Seated on the red leather couch at the center of Opal Stone's 'underground operation' was a familiar face. Luna was serenely sipping tea from her saucer, and dipping biscuits out of her teacup in the shallow liquid. On two small, round pedestals in front of her were Mandy and former Ravenclaw Lisa Turpin.

"Hullo Hermione!" Lisa called cheerily from her awkward position on the stand. Mandy, standing on one foot, managed some how to hop around and face her.

"Oh, you made it! I was beginning to think you'd gone and gotten yourself mauled by thestrals or something."

"You don't know how close to the truth you are." Hermione muttered, slumping on the couch next to Luna. Mandy huffed irritably, and hopped around so she was in her original position, facing the couch. She and Lisa were both sticking limbs out and contorting themselves oddly. At least twenty measuring tapes each were surrounding them, prodding their bodies into new positions and laying themselves against limbs. A peacock feather quill hovering nearby took measurements down on a scroll that already surpassed two meters in length.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mandy asked; an eyebrow quirking. "Did the company picnic get a little rough?"

Frowning, Hermione noticed Luna's dreamy gaze fixated on her, and Lisa attempting to subtly listen in. Opal Stone was also nearby, the gossip girl, pretending to read a Witch Weekly. How could they all _tell _she had good gossip? Did all females come with a built in rumor radar? And if so, then why had Hermione's own never seemed to work? Was she malfunctioning? Why was she asking herself all these useless questions as the other women (minus Sugar, her daughters, and another woman Hermione didn't recognize, who were chatting in the corner of the room) continued to stare at her?

"It might have. But I'm afraid the only information I can reveal is to Ms. Badger." Mandy gave a small nod and a glint of sheer curiosity appeared in her eyes. She knew Hermione obviously had something so big that it couldn't be revealed in front of all these people. And it was killing her not to know right this very second.

"Well, I'm sure she'll be available after we're all finished here for some tea."

"Alright then, Ms. Turpin, I've got all your measurements down now, you're free to go when you want." Opal (this month green streaks replaced the red ones in her hair, and she was sporting a new eyebrow piercing) said, strolling over and waving her wand at the measuring tapes around Lisa. One fell limp while still wrapped around Lisa's brown ponytail, and the girl nearly tripped over another surrounding her ankles.

"I just need to update yours, Miss Lovegood, so this will take only a-"

"Wait a moment," Hermione interjected as Opal helped Luna onto the stand. "If all you're doing here tonight is taking measurements, then why do I have to be here?" Opal already had her measurements; Mandy had given them to her when she asked Opal to create Hermione's L.R.B. dress.

"Well, you don't..."

Hermione shot Mandy a look, to which she responded by offering a cheeky grin. "I needed my maid of honor for moral support! And besides, I have something for you back at home." Mandy explained.

Pouting, Hermione stayed. Not because she was a loyal friend or anything (the sorting hat hadn't tried to place her with the loyal fools in Hufflepuff!), but because what twenty three year old girl could resist the intrigue and materialistic reward that was _presents_? Oh, and she really should inform Mandy of what had happened earlier that day in the cave.

Lisa and Luna, both having finished with their fittings eventually trickled out, followed by Sugar, who left 'Heliotrope' ("For the love of Merlin, it's Violet, Mum!"), and 'Imp' ("_P-i-x-i-e_! Gulping gargoyles, it's only five letters long!") to stay with Mandy and Yet-Unidentified-Woman-from-the-Corner.

As if reading Hermione's slightly witty- (insane/paranoid/maniacal) - mind, Mandy made introductions then. "This is my niece, Violet Brocklehurst, her sister Pixie Brocklehurst," Mandy clarified, first gesturing to the irritated girl putting away her Exploding Snap cards, then to a three year old with dirty blond pigtails and brown eyes hidden behind round-framed glasses. "And that's my Mum in the corner."

Ah, so this was the woman responsible for the names Sugarsheen Twinkletoes and Amanda Glitterbud. This was the woman with fairy blood in her veins. This was the woman with…dirt under her fingernails?

A chubby middle-aged woman approached, smiling a large grin. She had Mandy's smile, but Sugar's dimples. Her skin was tanner than either of her daughters, and she was much taller. Mandy's mum had hazel eyes and black wavy hair. "Hello Hermione! It's lovely to meet you, dear. I'm Calista Brocklehurst- formerly Calista North, of the Icelandic North's. Mandy-dandy here has sent us plenty of owls about you!" Calista's voice was low and raspy, pleasantly mellow- much like Mandy's was. "You know, you're hair _does_ resemble a Crassy-Crope Shrub!"

Well… A woman she'd never met before was walking straight up to her and shooting insults about her hair. Lovely. Hermione glared at Mandy, who didn't have the decency to look embarrassed about her mum. However, Calista did seem to mean it in a good way, so Hermione decided to forgive Mandy. Because she bought her something. But that was the only reason. Who cares if she made her maid of honor over her own sister? (Then again, someone like Sugar might forget why she was walking down such a lovely aisle, and ask the minister what he was doing, standing up there dressed all fancy like that)

"Forgive me, dear; I have a tendency to relate everything to plants. It's a habit among herbologists like me. Oh! And I'll also ask forgiveness on my daughters' behalves. I noticed you speaking with Sugar earlier. She loves her children, really she does, but I'm afraid my girls have a bit of fairy blood in them. Sugar got the brunt of it, and Mandy certainly has her moments-" At this comment, Mandy gave an indignant noise while getting the last measurements taken. Unfortunately, they were of the thickness of her neck. As she attempted to step off the platform and give her mum a piece of her mind, the measuring tapes held her back, and she jerked backward, choking against the yellow ribbons. (And inadvertently proving Mrs. Brocklehurst's point.)

"But Merlin knows Silvercast- the girls' father- is the absolute worst!"

Hm… Their father was the one with the fairy blood in him? She hadn't quite been expecting that. Then again, Calista Brocklehurst hardly looked like she'd have any in her. She was lovely, but a tall woman; and fairies were some of the smallest magical beings around.

The quill finally finished scrawling the last measurement, and released Mandy's neck from their death grip. She sputtered and rubbed at the fresh red marks against her throat. "I most certainly don't have my moments!" She rasped angrily.

Calista murmured 'Of course you don't' in a soothing voice, and patted Mandy's head much the same way that Sugar had patted Violet's earlier. Opal yawned obviously and largely in the corner, once, twice, three times. "If you thought it was time for us to leave, you might have just asked." Hermione said, smiling slightly. It was rather late.

"Well, come on, Violet, dear. It's past bed time and we've got to go make sure you're Mum found her room alright." Calista picked up Pixie from the ground and fastened her onto her hip. The dark haired woman pulled an Exploding Snap card from the child's mouth and tossed it to the ground quickly, before grabbing Violet's shoulder and apparating with a 'crack'.

On the floor, the card exploded tremendously, leaving smoke and slight flames on the cement. "We think Pixie takes after her mum quite a bit." Mandy said, allowing a small grin. "Violet's more like her father, Quinton Von Hugle. Nice fellow, but Sugar regularly forgot they were even married. Got a divorce about a year ago." Mandy shook her head and frowned for a moment, before becoming cheerful again. "Well, Ms. Lioness, let's head back to my house and we can talk about this rough picnic. Shall we?" Mandy asked, offering her an arm.

"We shall, Ms. Badger, we shall!" Hermione responded, looping her arm through Mandy's and apparating to the Raven's Glen.

When they arrived, she nearly tripped over a stack of glossy quidditch magazines in the living room. Mandy and Seamus weren't exactly the neatest couple on the planet. Their mahogany coffee table had an array of scented candles; mostly lavender or sage scented which were placed next to a vase of dead and dried out flowers. The black squashy couch had a dirty cauldron sitting on one end, with Merlin-knows-what residue left on the inside that was filled with what seemed to be garbage (mainly drooble's wrappers and empty owl treat boxes). On the other end of the couch, there was a stack of books with titles like _Wonderful Weddings _and _Planning Parties Vol. 4: Nuptials_. Having little other choice, Hermione slumped down on the center cushion, between the dirty cauldron-slash-rubbish can and Mandy's wedding how-to books.

Mandy had rushed upstairs quickly, and was now slowly making her way back into the rubbish-room, as Hermione had deemed it. She was carrying a large box that seemed to be yowling, and trying to make sure she didn't trip over her cat, Monet.

"Now, give me my present!" Way to be altruistic, Hermione.

"Not just yet, young lady. We have to talk about this picnic. Obviously it's something big." Mandy said, pulling the box gently away.

"But- but- you need to check on Seamus first." Yeah, that's it! She could peek in the box while Mandy was upstairs. "I don't want him hearing or anything."

"I'm sure that he'd love to hear the inner workings of your life, Hermione, but right now he's not awake. I just told him I was home, and he said 'that's nice, and what size broom will you need today, sir?' I think it's a safe bet he won't be listening in anytime soon." Mandy had a wicked grin on her face, and Hermione suddenly wished she hadn't said anything.

But she knew Mandy wouldn't give up that large, unopened box until she told. Sighing, Hermione settled in next to her good friends Mr. Cauldron and Ms. Stack-of-Books, because she knew this was going to be a long conversation. "Well, I kissed Harry…"

"You told me already. He thought you were unconscious."

"…Again." Hermione finished, waiting for Mandy's reaction.

A/N: Note that this isn't proofread, it's late! I'll try again to get the next chapter up soon, but I can't promise anything. I've got a lot on my plate. I hope that wasn't too disappointing, after all that wait, and I'll try my very best to give you a huge, big, fluffy/funny/satisfying chapter next time. The title comes from Sugarsheen and the last line. If you want me to reply to a review, say so.


	16. Inhale, Exhale, Inhale… Pause?

**Guess what I have, fanfic readers…** **A PREZZIE!** **-pulls box out from behind-** **And you thought I didn't get you anything! Pshaw, I totally did, and it's…**

**AN UPDATE WOOOOOOO!**

**A/N: Will someone please call a surgeon, who can crack my ribs… da dum lots more lyrics… your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures... Hee hee, I heart ipod. It's like I have my own background/theme music. Name that tune! Kay, so it's REALLY me. A me from four days before January '07, not four days after February '06, which was when this chapter SHOULD have been out. But I feel nice. Even if my freaking AP English teacher went insane and told us to finish _A Brave New World_, start and finish _Hamlet_, and get out our usual biweekly 1500 word journals by first day back. Blech. Teachers suck. Right, so back from weirdo world…**

**DISCLAIMER: No sue-age. Get it? Sewage, sue-age. Teehee. I own only what you don't recognize.**

_**Recap:**_

_But she knew Mandy wouldn't give up that large, unopened box until she told. Sighing, Hermione settled in next to her good friends Mr. Cauldron and Ms. Stack-of-Books, because she knew this was going to be a long conversation. "Well, I kissed Harry…"_

"_You told me already. He thought you were unconscious."_

"…_Again." Hermione finished, waiting for Mandy's reaction._

**Chapter Sixteen: Inhale, Exhale, Inhale… Pause?! **

A beat went by. Then another, and one more.

"Uh… Mandy?"

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what happened, Hermione." The witch said, sounding irritated. She crossed her arms and looked at Hermione like her mother did, when Hermione was little and she waiting to hear why exactly the boxes of floss she'd asked for had 'magically' turned into chocolates.

Of course, Helen never believed her when she'd said that it really _was_ magic. Ha! She sure showed _her_!

But anyway… "Um, that's it."

Mandy rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat. Her arm knocked into a pile of books on the couch next to her. Mandy glanced at the damage for a moment, before deciding (apparently) she thought the books looked much nicer on the floor than on the couch, and leaving them there.

"Whatever, Hermione. You've kissed _Ron _more than that. If your not even willing to go as far with _Harry_ as you have with _Ron_, then it's not _news_. It's just _lame_. If you seriously don't do something soon, I'm thinking you'll never get married and make lots of babies with horrible hair and hero complexes!"

"Hey! Don't you bring up that mess of a relationship. At the end of the day I could barely stand being near him, let alone working together to save the world from an evil madman. I wanted to drop an anvil on his head! It's not fair, and if you bring it up again I'll start telling people about that time when I was patrolling near the library and I found you and Theodore Nott pinned under a fallen suit of armor, helplessly flailing around…"

"I was not _flailing_. I was _writhing_! I was underneath two guys, one of which is more muscle than mind, and the other of which was made of metal, and-"

"Underneath two guys writhing…"

Mandy winced, realizing her poor word choice. "I was writhing in pain!"

"Anyway, I won't bring up yours if you leave mine alone."

"Fine, pasts are out. Now, back to your lack of a present…"

"Well that wasn't it, it. I mean, there was other stuff too."

"Really? Like what? Sex?"

"Like, um, talking."

Mandy leaned forward eagerly. "About sex?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, smacking herself in the forehead.

"Well then it's nothing, anyway, and you gave me false hope." Mandy sniffed, leaning back again. The box at their feet gave a little rumble, before Mandy reached into one of the half-empty boxes of owl treats and tossed a few in.

"Gulping gargoyles, Mandy, just because it wasn't _about_ sex, doesn't mean the conversation wasn't relevant to whether or not their _will_ _be_ times when Harry and I _do_ talk about sex! What are you, a hormonal _teenage_ _boy_? Is that all you and Seamus talk about?"

"No, of course not." She said rolling her eyes. "We talk about the pub, too. Oh! And quidditch."

"You really are a teenage boy!"

"A teenage boy with girl parts. And an attraction to other boys, only ones without the girl parts. So, do you want to tell me what you did talk about, since it obviously wasn't sex or pubs?"

"Or quidditch," Hermione added. "And I'm not so sure anymore. I wanted to tell Ms. Badger, not Young _Mr_. Ms. Badger." Hermione ducked just in time to avoid a thick book. She picked it up and glanced at the title. _'How Brilliant Brides Can Make Wonderful Wives'_

"Fine, I guess I have to, or it'll be death by marital how-to books." Hermione grinned. "And I wouldn't want a minor to go to jail for my murder. Teenage boys don't to well in prison."

()()()()Flash-to-the-Back()()()()

"Well… here we are. In a cave." Hermione felt that was the only suitable thing to say at the moment. Besides, what do you say to your friend-slash-infatuation when you find yourself in a cave after being rescued from an obviously chemically imbalanced co-worker?

Yeah, thanks for saving me from the crazy man. Would you like to make out now?

Um, no. Not so appropriate.

Harry was leaning against the wall, wiping away some excess water from his forehead. He looked tired and drained (but still amazingly fantastic). His face was paler than usual, and his eyes shut. "Mm-hm…" was the only reply Hermione got to her awesome conversation opener.

"Thank goodness you know How to Save a Life. Must listen to The Fray a lot." She said sagely. This would have to do for entertainment at the moment.

"Mm-hm…"

"Although, I've never heard it blaring through your ceiling into my floor. Just the screeches of excitement you seem to emit."

"Uh-huh…" followed by a long inhalation of air.

"They sound rather like the mating call of the Brazilian Catwrop that Luna told me about."

"…" and then a snore exhaling.

"Strangely, since this goes on regularly, I have noticed that this commences at precisely seven thirty. The same time the Sci-Fi network runs the old episodes of Star Trek. Connection? I think so…"

"…" A breath goes in…

"But the question is- are they the episodes with the girl captain, or the one with the bald guy?"

"…" Then out.

"Yes, I thought so. The bald guy. Such a shame, then. And we had so much in common, too…"

"…" A breath goes in…

"I was really starting to fall for you, pest that you are."

"…" Then- Pause.

'Wait. Where is it?'

Then-? _Extended_ pause.

'_Where the hell is it!'_

THEN-? _PAUSE, PAUSE, PAUSE!!!!!_

'I need some CO2 here!' Hermione thought worriedly. Her own breath was getting rapid, her head light and dizzy.

**_THEN-!!! EXTREME PAUSE TO THE FIFTEENTH POWER!_**

And suddenly Harry isn't so sleepy anymore, apparently.

Suddenly, the blind apparation wasn't so draining.

Suddenly, the pounding of the falls wasn't blocking her voice out from his head.

Suddenly, Hermione's brown eyes were staring into a familiar pair of deep green ones.

Suddenly- _pause._

Her own breath refused to leave her lungs, and Hermione could feel heat rushing to her face from a fast pumping heart. Harry's face, still damp from the river water, was barely a few centimeters away from her own. His breath had restarted. An exhalation of warm air flew into her already burning face, now no more than five centimeters away.

There it was- a moment he was giving to her to pull away from him. A chance to stop before they completely crossed the line, twisted their friendship, and got tangled in something new. Her eyes shut. A few drops of cold river water fell from the black mop of hair on Harry's head on to her face, and the motion was just about to restart.

And then, it happened.

The single worse thing that she had done _ever_.

Somehow, though the possibility was ridiculously low, a single synapse in her brain was _still_ functioning…

Water drip. _Pause_, falling water. _Pause_, water falling. _Pause, waterfall!_

Her hands shakily searched the ground around her for her wand. Clasping around it, she stood as best she could with wobbly knees and half-ran, half-stumbled over to the entrance of the cave, where the water was rushing down heavily, splashing her in the face and re-soaking her hair and clothes.

She raised her wand in the air as high as possible, and clearly cried out a charm. The top of the waterfall ceased motion, and what had been in the process of falling continued to the bottom, crashing down and leaving one last deafening splash, before there was silence, and the woods outside the cave came into view. A few stubborn streams of water continued to dribble down in slow motion, but it was done, and they were free.

"Well, that's never happened before…"

Uh… Whoops?

"Then again, all of this is rather new to me. Do geniuses always think clearest when they're about to-to, well…"

Moron, idiot, thickheaded girl!

"Maybe this was a sign."

Y-you fool! You slow, simpleminded creature! Crabbe! Goyle!

"Then again…"

But just as she was considering diving off the edge of the now non-existent falls, a ray of hope. With a firm grip at her shoulder, Harry spun her around to face him. This time there was no pause. His mouth was on hers in an instant. A pair of foreign, yet somehow familiar, lips were against her own. From that moment, a rush of feelings extending from the top of her head to her curling toes erupted all over. Her belly flopped and her arms moved of their own accord around his neck. And much too soon for her liking, the light contact was over.

"Lucky for us we don't believe in divination." She muttered before Hermione's slightly chapped lips (damn it, why did it have to be _now_, when she had no lip balm) reached his again…

Harry's, her best friend's, and the man she couldn't seem to get out of her head. Now _it_ had happened (for the _third_ time) she wasn't so sure she wanted him out. Ever. A few drops of water rained down from the otherwise still falls, but neither of them noticed, too wrapped up in each other.

()()()()Back-to-the-Future()()()()

"Wow."

"I know, right? Now aren't you ashamed, that you were all like, a kiss is worth nothing?"

"Um, no. I'm just wondering why you showed up late to my wedding fitting because of that _yawn-fest_."

"_What?!_"

"Okay, so the events themselves weren't that bad, but you said there was somewhat meaningful conversation exchanged. When? Was that whole thing about the bald guy full of symbolism and sentimentality?"

"Okay, so I lied. It's not like you can even have a _meaningful_ conversation in a freaking _cave_!"

"So what are you doing here? Go find Harry and have a _meaningful_ conversation."

"I think those are the only sane words that have come out of your mouth all night."

So Mandy stood and leaned over a cauldron on the coffee table, knocking over a pile of magazines. Hermione hugged her friend and thanked her for the advice before leaving with an echoing crack.

**A/N: So it was short, and extremely late. But there was H/Hr, and a promise of more in the future. Okay, so this chapter is done. Actually, if I really wanted to, I could probably change the summary completely and just end this after the next chapter. What do you guys think? REVIEW!!**


	17. Steps

A/N: Okay so I'm sure you probably all thought I had died in some unfortunate accident as punishment for not updating or finishing this story. But the actual truth is really much, much sadder. In a great tragedy, I have become a grown up. Sort of. In the way that I have become busy being in college and working and playing laser tag. But I'm bored and other things and I feel rather guilty about not finishing this even though basically it only needs one more chapter, so I'll give it a whirl even though I'm pretty much over this. Harry Potter is over and I can't seem to enjoy fics for this genre anymore, especially non-canon, OC (such as this story) which presents a problem as the little girl inside me still holds on to the years worth of R/Hr and H/G hate that burns like the fire of a thousand suns.

* * *

Hermione stood at the steps that led to Harry's floor. She nervously lifted her leg, planting one foot on the first step. Gingerly, she pushed off the ground, and climbed the step.

YES!!!! ONE DOWN, TWENTY TO GO!!!!

Mentally, Hermione was quite proud of herself for even doing this at all. Mandy had thought she was an idiot for not rushing right into things and just kissing the hell out of Harry. But, Mandy was also a proven moron who rushed into things. Clearly, she had never been at a war with Fate and a victim of horrendous luck. As the rest of this year had proven, there was someone out to get Hermione Granger, and she was positive that if she didn't take these last few steps going into a possible relationship with Harry very slowly, something utterly disastrous would-

"Well, have you had sex yet?"

"Merlin's trousers!" Hermione exclaimed, spinning around and tripping down the single step she'd climbed. There behind her stood Mandy, smiling calmly as she looked her over, scrutinizing. "What are you doing here, Mandy, are you crazy? Would you like to be the cause of my untimely death, because I really don't think that you'd make it in Azkaban- designer robes don't fare well in an environment of insanity. You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Mandy blinked. "You're wearing the same robes as before. Haven't you had sex yet?"

"What is this obsession of yours with whether or not I've had sex with Harry? GO AWAY, OR IT'S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN!"

"Excuse me for caring! I just want to make sure that one of my dearest, truest friends has found love and happiness before she is old and gray and wrinkled," Mandy sniffed, folding her arms across her chest. "And anyway, I don't know what you're talking about. I could totally handle Azkaban. The dementors have never seen fashion like this."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and leaning against the staircase, told Mandy she could go wait in her apartment. It was the only way she could guarantee that Mandy would be out of her hair and out of her way. Taking a quick breath, Hermione re-climbed her first step and set to work on the second. It was much easier this time around, and before she knew it she was on the fifth step to the next floor. Obviously she could have just popped upstairs, the same way Harry had done so before, but this way was much better for her in the long run. It allowed time to prepare herself mentally and emotionally for the possibility of rejection or any further disrupt-

"Hey Hermione, there you are! We were just wondering if you could-"

Hermione cringed completely, her body hunching at the familiar voice. She turned around, spinning on the heel of her shoe and accidentally slipping down one step back to the fourth. Below stood two wizards, both looking up at her and smiling obliviously. Clearly, they had no idea she was attempting to do something that even Godric Gryffindor probably couldn't muster the courage to do. Because if they had knowingly interrupted her, she'd have avada kedavra'ed the crap out of them both. But as they both seemed to have no idea that she was on her way to confess her feelings to Harry, she spared them. Also, she really didn't want to go to jail.

"Ron. Seamus. Not. Now."

"Oh are you busy then? Because it would really help the both of us out if you could settle an argument we got into at the pub, and-"

"Not. Now."

Seamus seemed to get that something was up, and he started to turn around, but as to be expected, Ron didn't get it right away. "We want to know the difference between-"

Hermione let out a shriek, and held up her wand. Before Seamus could yank Ron out of the way, three jets of light sped toward him, and instantly, he was covered in purple dots, his nose was now a bird's beak, and the left arm of his robe had been set on fire. He screamed and shot a jet of water out of his own wand, before turning and running away, being followed quickly by Seamus. Finally, she was alone again.

She was already nervous, and these interruptions were making her feel slightly sick about it. Was this a sign that maybe she shouldn't be doing this? Or was it just her old enemy Fate, picking on her and playing games? Either way, Hermione pushed on, stepping up onto the twelfth stair. Her stomach was doing nervous flip flops, and already she could feel her face heating up from embarrassment or anxiousness or some combination of it all. If this really worked out, then she and Harry would finally be a real couple. And maybe one day, if everything worked out nicely, she could end up standing in front of a church with him, wearing a wedding dress, and looking into those green eyes to tell him just how much she-

"Hermione Jane Granger, just where do you think you're going?"

Oh. No.

This was worse than the last two interruptions. Oh, Fate was a tricky player.

"Mum, what are you doing here?" She tried to keep the absolute fury out of her voice, because really, her mother hadn't done anything wrong (yet). She didn't even know about the whole kissing at the picnic incident, no one but Mandy had been told, and she was pretty sure Harry wasn't going to go mouthing off to Helen about it, so clearly this was just an accidental incident of misfortunate timing.

"That friend of yours says you're going to go and tell Harry that you love him."

Or, maybe _that_ could have happened and now she knew everything.

"Well I just came here to say that you are an ungrateful child and I think you're horrible for not coming to me before you decided to do this! How dare you not include me on these important matters of your life! It is just a wonder that I don't disown you and simply use all the money your father and I saved for your wedding to move to a bigger house or somewhere exotic like New Zealand. I'm sure children in New Zealand talk to _their_ mothers."

Hermione looked at her mother. She wasn't sure what to say to that, because really, there was only so much a person could take. Perhaps this was something like what had caused Justin to go over the edge earlier. Maybe he had a mother like Helen Granger. Hermione made a mental note that she should go and find out whatever happened to Justin, and maybe they could talk about how much it absolutely sucked to know that the womb from which you sprung happened to belong to a crazy (_eccentric_) person.

But for now, she did the only thing she could think of. She petrified her mother and left her frozen at the bottom of the stairway.

Motivated by this last interruption, Hermione finally climbed the entirety of the staircase, taking the last steps two at a time. She was half full of nervousness, half full of adrenaline, but mostly there was white hot anger in her veins. Because this was already difficult enough without the entire troupe of idiots that normally plagued her life deciding to barge in all at once. Merlin, if she didn't just get this over with now, the next thing you know Loony Lovegood would be back with her stupid card about stupid mental health therapists telling her she's going to be institutionalized or something similarly ridiculous.

Hermione was just fine, thank you, and as soon as she and Harry were officially a couple, perhaps she could go back to being a normal, stable witch like she was supposed to be.

She walked up to his door and determinedly knocked three times, hard, so that he could hear the sound of her knuckles hitting the wood from wherever he was inside. She was still running on the high from her anger, but when the door opened, all thought seemed to vanish as her heart leapt to her throat. There he was, looking just as amazing as ever. Harry's black hair was damp and combed neatly. He'd changed into a fresh set of navy robes that fit him well, hanging neatly on his broad shoulders. She felt rather inadequate standing in front of him.

"Hey," he said casually, the left side of his mouth turning upwards.

It was then that Hermione realized that she should have probably thought a little more about what she was going to say.

"Uh…"

This was so stupid. This was so unfair! She couldn't have come all this way for nothing, right? Hermione frantically searched her brain for an appropriate response, something that would convey exactly what she wanted to tell him, something to lay it all on the line, something to- oh _hell_.

Instead of a carefully thought out speech, as she should have done, Hermione just decided to go for it. What else could she have done, really, with him standing there looking so good? She pushed the door the rest of the way open and sidled right up to him, standing on her toes to reach his height. She grabbed his face and turned it toward her own, and watched as his eyes started to close in expectance. But at the last moment she changed her mind, and finally knew exactly what to say.

"Listen up. You aren't going to interrupt me, because I've had just about enough of that tonight. We are going to go out. We are going to go out as a couple because I love you and you love me and if we don't I'm pretty sure I'm just about ready to be admitted permanently to St. Mungos, and our going out is the only solution to my mental health problems."

Harry's eyes had gone wide. Hermione let go of his face and started to step away, but he grabbed her wrists and held her where she was.

"Okay then."

She didn't get a chance to respond, because she found her mouth otherwise occupied. The kiss was slow and intimate, and as their lips moved against each other, Hermione felt herself grin, because it felt like they were made for this.

"Oh, Hermione!"

Unfortunately, that wasn't Harry.

Hermione pulled away from Harry regretfully, turning to blink in confusion. They were still in the doorway to his apartment, never having fully entered his living room. And they were visible from the top of the steps, where a group of four people stood, gawking. Ron, Seamus, Mandy, and Helen Granger were all watching with rapt interest as she and Harry had sealed their relationship with a kiss. How disturbing.

"Mum!" Hermione exclaimed, as the crazy person to birth her ran forward and pushed Harry out of the way. Helen wrapped her in an uncomfortably tight hug, dampening Hermione's robes with tears.

"I don't want to disown you! I love you! I support you and everything you do completely, and I'm so glad you're finally happy and when you get married you're going to wear my dress!"

She looked over her mother's shoulder at Harry, hoping this wasn't going to scare him off completely. But he stood there as Ron slapped him on the shoulder in congratulations, and simply smiled.

HERMIONE 1, FATE 0.

Take that, bitch.

* * *

A/N: Well the ending sucked. Which is probably why I haven't updated in forever. Anyways, I really want to thank any and every reader and reviewer. You guys are what made this story, even though it is rather pointless as far as stories go. Its OC and immature and a mess, but I can't help but love it.

PS: I hate that I'm going to do this, but I just added a new fic about the series called Skins and it is rather lonely without reviews. If any fans read this, please do check it out and review it? I'd love some feedback on it and I'm not sure how I can improve if I don't have any feedback. I'd really appreciate it!


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